


Twin Tales: Taking Root

by Linorien



Series: Twin Tales [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Albion is a lot bigger than just Camelot, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthurian legends remixed here, Avalon - Freeform, BAMF Gwen (Merlin), BAMF Merlin, Gen, Gwaine Knows, Merlin actually doesn't listen to Kilgharrah alone so the prophecy doesn't haunt him, Spymaster!Merlin, canon AU, eventual golden age, slightly less oblivious Arthur, so much magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2019-09-28 00:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 84,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linorien/pseuds/Linorien
Summary: For magic, for Albion, and for his king. This is what Merlin fights for.For Camelot, for equality, and for the love of his life. This is what Arthur Pendragon fights for.Magic and steel must join together to bring about their shared goals. Secrets will be revealed and alliances forged. There’s a long way to go, but soon the two sides of the coin will work together as one.





	1. Flickering Flames - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story came about as wanting to expand on the backstory I hinted at in [TV Magic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7114363). It grew much bigger than expected. You do not need to read the other story, but you may enjoy. The largest change from canon is that Merlin lives with William, the librarian, and a surprising amount of things are affected by that. I hope the story stands on its own, but ask if you have questions.  
> I hope you enjoy _Twin Tales_.

“Rise and shine!” Merlin said brightly as he flung open the velvet curtains in Arthur’s chamber. The sunlight shone onto the body sprawled on the large bed, mouth slightly ajar, left foot hanging off the side. Hardly a groan.

“You’re going to regret that,” Merlin muttered. He grabbed Arthur’s leg and pulled. Now, he moved.

“Merlin! What are you–oof!” He hit the floor. “Merlin!”

With a grin, Merlin skipped out of arm’s reach. “Time to get up, sire. It’s a beautiful morning, the sun is shining—” He flicked the plate on the table. “— and the food is still warm. Up and at ‘em, Arthur.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes and Merlin felt his smile fade a little. “If it’s such a nice morning, as you say, then why don’t we go for a hunt?”

“Oh, it’s not that nice of a—”

“Yes. A hunt sounds perfect.” Now Arthur was the one with the smile. “Go and get the horses ready, Merlin. And pack us a lunch as well. I won’t have time to eat all of this breakfast if we are to get an early start to the day.” He stood from the pile of bedclothes on the floor that had slid off the mattress with him. “Help me get dressed and then you are dismissed.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin replied glumly, striding over to the dresser to grab Arthur’s riding clothes.

In truth, Merlin didn’t need to be so glum. They didn’t do any hunting. Arthur didn’t even take his crossbow out of his saddle bags. Instead, he led them to a hilltop, hidden by trees from the path but with a panoramic view of the valley. They sat in silence for a while, both enjoying the stillness of the midmorning. It was Merlin who broke the calm.

“Is something on your mind?” he asked.

Arthur looked sharply at him and Merlin knew he had guessed right. He held Arthur’s gaze, waiting for Arthur to lower the walls within himself. “It’s my father.”

Merlin said nothing, waiting for Arthur to continue.

“He’s been giving me more responsibility. Saying that someday all of this—” He gestured to the rest of the world. “—will be mine to rule over. It sounds like he thinks he’ll die soon. But he’s not ill. The physician would’ve told me if he was.” He looked down at his hands. “Unless Father ordered him not to tell me. I don’t like this feeling.”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s dying,” Merlin soothed. “You’ve told me you admire his mind for strategy; what is this if not preparation for when he will die? Every ruler has to think of his successor. You’ve been crown prince for over a year now, officially able to inherit upon his death. Maybe he’s decided you’re ready to start learning in earnest.”

“Why not sooner then? If this is just to prepare?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have thought you ready to rule two years ago.”

Arthur looked over to see Merlin’s twitch of a smile.

“Even if Prince Prat has a certain ring to it.”

Arthur scowled and shoved Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin shoved him right back.

“And I suppose you want to take credit for that?” Arthur asked.

“Well, it was less than two years ago that I decided it would be a good idea to save your life. But Gwen must get some credit as well. She’ll make a good queen.”

Arthur snorted. “My father would never allow that. Whoever it is I do end up wedding, the marriage will not be for love.”

“And you love Gwen.

Arthur nodded. “Very much.”

“Well, keep faith. Keep delaying your father until he dies.” Arthur gave him a look. “I don’t mean I’m going to kill him, you dunce. But no one lives forever. And once he’s gone, you’re the highest power in the land. You can choose your own queen.”

“You know, Merlin?” Arthur asked. “Sometimes, you seem almost—”

“Wise? Brilliant? Like the gift of a god come to bless you and guide you?” Merlin suggested when Arthur broke off.

“Trouble.”

“What?” Merlin gasped, overplaying the hurt. “How am I trouble?”

“In many ways, but I was actually talking about that.” Arthur pointed to the east where a column of dust was rising in the distance. “No one rides that fast unless there’s trouble.”

Unfortunately, this was the bad kind of trouble. True, all trouble was bad. Sometimes, Merlin spilled wine on Arthur’s white tunic right before a feast. Sometimes, William spotted a rat in the library and for fear of the books, Merlin was up all night trying to catch it. And sometimes, mercenaries were handed a small bag of gold on the king’s orders in exchange for ten druids who had been captured, chained together, and quite obviously not fed in some time.

Merlin was forced to stand in the throne room and listen as Uther announced that they would be burning tomorrow.

“Let this serve as a reminder that I am the king and my word is law. Sorcerers like those before you only bring evil into our world. Camelot has triumphed over such evil and will continue to send a message to devil-worshipers like the druids that their kind are not welcome in Camelot. The flames of the pyre will be a reminder that sorcery is not tolerated in this kingdom. A reminder that there is no safety in numbers. The Old Religion has been defeated and only the law of the king rules this land.”

Uther believed there could never be enough reminders of his power.

The druids were thrown in the dungeon, and Merlin followed a silent Arthur back to his chambers. He tidied as the prince stared out the window, watching the preparations that had already begun. Merlin could tell that he wasn’t pleased with his father’s decision either. He hadn’t said anything recently, but Arthur hadn’t attended the last five burnings.

“Arthur?” he began hesitantly. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say.

“Leave me. I won’t need you until late morning.”

With a shallow bow to Arthur’s back, Merlin left the room. He immediately broke into a run, heading for the library. He crashed through the doors, and Sir William sighed. That wasn’t entirely unexpected. Merlin knew he exasperated his guardian quite often. He often said that the day Merlin came to Camelot was the last day the library was a peaceful place for study.

“What is it this time, Merlin?” he asked, not bothering to look up from his book on the plants of Greece.

“You haven’t heard?” Merlin answered even as he ran to his room in the back corner. “Uther is burning more druids. I need to get them out.”

“Need I remind you that you can’t bring them out of the city yourself? You have duties. Arthur will be suspicious.”

Merlin dashed down from his room, hurriedly folding a piece of parchment. “Arthur is always suspicious. Besides, he gave me the night off. If I’m quick, I can catch the last messenger before he leaves and I won’t even lose sleep.” And just as quick as he came, he was gone.

Night had fallen on Camelot and the guards in the dungeon had fallen asleep in their game of dice. Merlin balanced one of the die on Drake’s head as he crept by. His bald head was good for that.

All but one of the druids had also fallen asleep; it was one of the three children. She was sitting by the bars, watching him approach. Merlin didn’t know if she had telepathy so he put a finger to his lips and the young girl copied him with a nod.

He held a hand over the lock and muttered a muffling spell followed by an unlocking spell. The lock unclasped without a sound. Merlin and the girl gently woke up the others, also motioning for them to be quiet. Only a couple of the adults seemed to recognise him as Emrys. He wondered if the others even had magic at all.

Regardless, they trusted him out of desperation and followed him out of the cell. They looked to him to lead them out of the dungeons, but he wordlessly asked them to wait for a moment. He carefully looked over each of them. It was dark, but he knew Uther hadn’t paid much attention to what they looked like anyway.

Turning back to the cell, he raised a hand and spoke an incantation in a low voice. _Ego creo vultus his Druidibus proditum dicunt. Motus isti respondere volo. Ut det illis conscientia mea._

To the amazement of the druids, another version of them was now sleeping in the cells. It was uncanny to see themselves asleep, chests rising and falling gently. Merlin lowered his hand, ignoring the huge energy drain that the duplicate spell required, and motioned for them to follow.

Merlin lead them past the sleeping guards and through a narrow tunnel that widened to a stone staircase which descended deeper into the hill. It was a warm summer evening, but as they went deeper, the air was chilly. The red light Merlin had summoned to guide their steps floated gently above their heads until they reached the bottom of the staircase. It then split apart and flew up to light the ring of torches on the walls.

The druids gasped at the large space around them. It was mostly bare, just a large stone platform jutting out from the wall of the cave, but the adventurous ones who looked over the edge saw the distant river flowing beneath that was born from the waterfall they could hear but not see. The light of the torches glinted off the water far below as it rushed past.

Merlin guided them along the narrow ledge, reassuring them that it was safe, and onto another larger platform, tucked further in. It looked large enough for a full size dragon to lay down on, but there were no dragons there now. Instead, there was a small work desk and some shelves, cluttered with jars. Along the wall there were five cots.

“Please, rest here for the night,” Merlin said. “It’s not much, but I know it’s more comfortable than the cells. I’ll return in the morning to lead you to Iseildur’s camp.”

“And they won’t look for us here?” One of the men asked. He was tall and held the hand of one of the children tightly, protectively.

“What’s your name?”

“Samuel.”

“Then Samuel, let me assure you that they will not. You saw the illusions I made. It’ll be those illusions that are burned in the morning, not you. They won’t be able tell the difference. Uther will make sure everyone in the city is gathered, so the streets will be empty of guards to ease your escape.”

“The people will still believe that Uther has burned more of us though,” Samuel said with a frown. “And I don’t think your illusions are good enough for my copy to yell at the king while it burns.”

“Unfortunately not,” Merlin agreed. “But it does guarantee that no one will hunt you down for escaping. It’s the best I can do for now.”

“And we thank you for it,” one of the women said, stepping forward to clasp his hand. “If that illusion truly will convince them, then I’m sure you must be exhausted. We’ll sleep and wait for you in the morning. I hope you get sleep, too.”

“Yes, I’ll come down in the morning.” Merlin turned to leave before remembering one last thing they might want to know. “Don’t fret about others finding you. There are magical barriers to keep everyone out of the cavern unless I specifically approve them.”

True to his word, Merlin delivered Arthur his breakfast in the morning and went directly down to the cavern. He knew Arthur wouldn’t make him attend the burnings, not when Arthur didn’t want to attend himself. But Uther had insisted he attend. No patrols or diplomatic duties to hide behind this time.

A dropped rock at the end of the corridor distracted the prison guards long enough for Merlin to dart down the last flight of stairs and into the tunnel. The druids were awake and waiting for him, one of the adults spinning his own spheres of coloured light to entertain the children. Merlin told them they were leading the illusions out to the courtyard now.

“How do you know that?” Samuel asked.

“Because I’m in control of the illusions,” Merlin explained. “If I concentrate, I can see what they see.”

Even Samuel was impressed by that. One of the children asked when they would be leaving and, with a smile, Merlin took his hand and began the parade out of the cavern. He led them down another set of stairs to the bottom floor of the cavern. They crossed an old bridge over the underground river and then entered a tunnel that lead away from the city and up through the hill. The tunnel ended with a few short carved steps out into the dappled sunlight in the forest.

Merlin went up first; thankfully, the forest was clear of people. Well, clear except for one. “Glad you made it, Gilli,” Merlin greeted.

“You’re lucky I did.” He clasped arms with Merlin. “The message caught me on my way out of town but I will always change directions for you.”

Together, they shepherded the druids deeper into the forest. The light of the sun was gradually filtered away as the trees became thicker. They were nearly silent, even the children taking care where to step. Suddenly, Merlin inhaled sharply and stopped in his tracks. Gilli grasped his shoulder to give him support.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Merlin replied, clearly not alright. “The burning’s started. This always takes a little more energy out of me.” He shook his head. “William made me study at least seven different books on human anatomy before he let me perform the spell. Apparently, a realistic burning is very tricky.”

“You can’t just increase the flame height so no one can see?” Gilli asked.

“That's what I asked!” Merlin exclaimed. “But apparently not. I think it was just an excuse to make me study something other than my spell books. Anyway.” Merlin turned to the rest of the group. “Gilli will lead you the rest of the way. I need to go back to the castle.”

“Thank you for getting us out of there,” one of the women said, the others echoing the sentiment. “If there is ever a way we can repay you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Oh, speaking of payment,” Merlin reached into a pocket and pulled out a small sack of coins. “Take these with you to the camp. Iseildur will know how to use it best.”

“Where did you get that?” Gilli asked.

“Off a certain individual who thought he could trade people for money.” Merlin grinned and then skipped backwards a few steps before jogging back to Camelot with a wave.

It wasn’t a long walk to Iseildur’s camp. Merely two hours away. And as they got farther from the city, the tensions eased and the children even picked some flowers along the path.

“Do you do this often then?” one of the women, Elizabeth, asked. “Sneak people out of the city?”

“Thankfully not too often,” Gilli replied. “It’s not often that people are captured anymore. Most people are able to stay far enough away from Camelot to avoid the constant patrols on every road and forest path in Camelot. But we’ve developed a system over the past year. It works much smoother now than it did before.”

“Is there anyone else helping you?”

“A few. It’s small at the moment. If you’re ever in need of a friend, look for someone wearing this ring.” Gilli held up his left hand and they could see a small braided ring on Gilli’s third finger.

“Are there many people with these rings?” Samuel asked. “What are the chances that I can find someone to help if I need it?”

“No, not many. I know Merlin wants to expand the network more though. At the moment, primarily it exists to smuggle people like you from Camelot into Iseildur’s camp and to be Merlin’s eyes and ears outside of Camelot.”

“How are all the druids fitting in one camp?” Elizabeth asked. She held her daughter’s hand tightly in her own; it was clear that as long as she had her daughter with her, she would do whatever it took to keep her safe. “I wouldn’t think a camp so close to Camelot would be that large. Don’t they need to be ready to move at a moment’s notice?”

Gilli smiled. “At one point they were, yes. But Merlin’s the type to create massive changes wherever he goes. In this case, it was more literal. You’ll see.”

Another half mile of walking and they were welcomed by two druids from the camp. Brief greetings were exchanged before they were led into a small tent hidden by a circle of trees. The escapees were puzzled at the tent separate from the rest of the tents in a cluster. Yet, it became clear when they walked inside and realised it wasn’t a tent that belonged to a family. A plank of wood in the otherwise sparse tent was moved aside to reveal a hole in the ground.

The children were delighted, climbing down the ladder after the first guide. Before them was a sight they had never seen before. It was clear where the inspiration had come from. The giant underground cavern could be considered a small town in and of its own right.

Vaulted ceilings removed any claustrophobic feelings and doorways were set into the walls. Hundreds of candles glittered in cut out windows and orbs of different coloured light hung above their heads. A promenade spiralled along the walls, providing a gentle slope down through the earth with a spiral staircase at two ends in case one did not wish to take the scenic route down five levels.

With a quick glance at the adults for permission, the children ran off to join the other children on the lowest level who were playing a game of catch with seemingly convoluted rules.

“Welcome to Praetorium Repromissionis—The Hall of Promise.”


	2. Flickering Flames - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Merlin Monday everyone! Bit of a shorter one today.

Merlin stumbled back into the cave and struggled up the stairs till he got to his room. He had been able to drop the illusion before he made it back to the citadel, but the spell was far more exhausting than he had let on. As it was, he firmly planted his face onto his bed and that was how Sir William found him an hour later. 

He gently roused Merlin with a shake. “I know you are exhausted but Arthur will be wanting his lunch soon.”

Merlin groaned. “One of these days, I’m going to give it to him from the comfort of my own bed.”

“One day maybe, but if anyone saw a tray floating through the castle now, sleep would not be the only thing you would lose.”

Merlin rolled his eyes at the poor attempt at levity and left the room. He truly didn’t mind waiting on Arthur. It had taken some time, but the two had formed a fast friendship. Along the way, both had matured, although if you asked Merlin, he would say Arthur had changed the most. 

With a good-natured greeting to Audrey, the head of the kitchens, Merlin lifted the lunch tray already prepared over his head and maneuvered his way back out of the crowded area. Dodging the other servants come to fetch lunch for their masters, he turned a corner and entered the servant’s area of the castle. The stairways might be narrower, the walls more bare, but it allowed him to arrive in Arthur’s chambers five minutes faster than he would’ve otherwise. 

He opened the servant’s door with his hip and found Arthur staring out the window. Sensing the mood, he set down the food quietly. He said nothing.

“Sometimes I wonder if this is the only way, Merlin,” Arthur spoke without turning from the view of the city square. “Must they die in such a horrific way? They were silent, but something in their eyes....” He paused. “It’s probably just my imagination.” Turning from the window, he strode to the table. “What’s for lunch today?”

Perhaps if he’d looked Merlin in the eyes, he would have noticed the same look he saw in the eyes of the druids he witnessed burning. Perhaps they would have spoken about it. 

Merlin plastered a smile on his face. “Only the best for his royal highness.”

Now, Arthur looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “A slice of ham and a roll is what you consider the best?” He sniffed his goblet. “And water?”

“There are fresh strawberries, too, if you look closely,” Merlin teased. 

“Ah yes, very filling.”

“Well, you do have training with the knights in twenty minutes and your father requested that you join him for an early supper. I know you wouldn’t want to be too full from lunch and have to turn down all of the good food.”

“Oh, so you admit that this food isn’t the best?”

“I said no such thing. Any food fit to grace your plate is good food.” Merlin finished laying out Arthur’s chainmail. “But if you don’t want it....”

“Nice try, Merlin.” Arthur stabbed an especially big piece of ham and slowly raised it to his mouth, savouring it sedately. 

Merlin only shook his head. “I trust you can get ready for training by yourself. William had another shipment of books come in yesterday, and he’d like me to sort them. Then, I need to take your dogs out. I’ll send someone to collect the tray from you.”

Arthur nodded and waved his hand, gesturing for Merlin to get on with his own duties. 

Merlin nodded in return and left with the basket of Arthur’s laundry to drop off. Really, William didn’t need him to sort the books, but at least three books were for him–books of sorcery from distant lands where magic had evolved differently. He had just finished picking up the basis of archaic French, and he was looking forward to setting aside an afternoon to study one new book in particular.  _ On the History of Forest Magic in France _ was the translated title. He knew not all of it would be useful, not every plant grew in Albion, but perhaps he would learn something that the druids did not know. He would have the chance to teach them something for once. 

However, as he walked through the silence of the library, putting each new book in its proper place and adding it to the catalogue, his mind was free to wander. Last year, he had nearly been caught sneaking just one druid out of Camelot. The guards had noticed the escape sooner than he’d thought and had mobilized a search party before they had gotten far enough away. 

The hobbled gait of the druid had slowed them down, but thankfully the druid had known a place to hide nearby and used some camouflage magic. The dogs had found them, but Merlin had them trained long ago to listen to him.

At the time, it had seemed wiser to eliminate the searching altogether; no one would look for druids escaping if they thought they were watching them burn. And yet, what did this do to the image of the druid community? The citizens of Camelot watched them burn and die without a word of protest. Maybe it made them look complacent, resigned to their fate, as if they accepted that having magic made them guilty. But even Arthur was starting to show doubts about the burning. Surely the people of Camelot might also be persuaded that escape was better. 

He sighed, sliding the last book into place. He would ask Lancelot later. For now, he had dogs to play with. 


	3. A Wider World - Part 1 and Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Camelot receives a visitor from the far north.

On the top of the hill leading up to the castle, Arthur and Merlin stood side by side, decked in formal clothes, waiting for their guests. The approaching party had been spotted and were nearly at the gates. The visitors were from a small kingdom further north: Loch Solma. There existed no formal treaty between the kingdoms since they were so distant, but Camelot would never turn down a chance to make a good impression on visiting nobility.

“Greetings, King Henry,” Uther greeted as the other ruler dismounted. “Welcome to Camelot.”

Arthur was surprised to see that the visiting king was so young compared to his father. His ginger stubble looked more like peach fuzz than a trimmed beard and his bright smile still spoke of innocence and joy in life. No pile of tragedies on his shoulders.

“Well met, King Uther.” The two kings gripped each other’s forearm and shook. “I look forward to spending a little time here before I continue on.”

“The pleasure is ours. We have not heard from your kingdom in a long time. Our court librarian would love to hear about it. But allow me to introduce my son, Prince Arthur.”

Arthur stepped forward and executed a short bow. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Prince Arthur.” King Henry nodded back. “I look forward to getting to know you better.”

“Please allow my manservant to show you to your quarters.”

Merlin stepped forward and the king followed him after one last nod to Uther and a quick signal to his entourage. Merlin lead the man across the courtyard, subtly showing off the knights out training in the yard.

“They are well disciplined. The king trains them well.”

“Actually, it’s Prince Arthur who is in charge of the knights’ training,” Merlin corrected.

“Really? I would have thought that would be a job for the king.”

“The king has passed many duties onto Prince Arthur, and he has demonstrated great potential to be King when his own time comes.”

“You must be very proud of your master.”

Merlin snorted. Remembering that this visitor did not know Arthur, he glanced at the king to apologise. King Henry was smiling. There was no need to not continue his usual insolence then. “He certainly has lungs to be proud of. He calls my name and I can hear him even among the books. William despairs the shattering of the silence in the library.”

“The library?” His brows furrowed. “What would a manservant be doing in the library?”

“The librarian is my guardian, sire. I live in one of the back rooms that formerly housed visiting academics. We don’t get many of those any more.”

“Could you take me to him? I really don’t need to rest; I would much rather tell him about my kingdom. Perhaps you would be interested to hear as well?”

Merlin grinned. “I’d love that.”

King Henry and Sir William spoke at a table at the back of the library while Merlin took notes. Because of this, Merlin was among the first to learn that King Henry planned to travel farther southeast to the distant lands by the glittering sea and was looking for Camelot knights to join him. He wanted the knowledge gained to spread beyond his own kingdom.

Later, William confided in Merlin that had he been a decade younger and still an active knight, he would have joined the expedition in a heartbeat.

But as it stood, it was Sir Tristan and Sir Drin who stepped forward later on the training field to say they would be interested in travelling. Neither had families to care for and both were known for their sense of adventure.

Of course, this spurred a flurry of activity in the castle. And it was Merlin who was the most busy.

“Ah, Gwen, good. You’re here.” Merlin burst through the door to Gwen’s workshop and was met with the cheerful sound of women chatting while they sewed. He shut the door behind him and sat down heavily on a stool in the old guest room.

“What do you need?” she asked with fond exasperation. When Merlin burst into the workshop like this, it was always on request of the king. If he came to do his own sewing, he crept in quietly.

“A rush job.”

“They all are,” Gwen muttered.

“True, but this one really is. Tristan and Drin need some travelling clothes. They’re going with King Henry on his journey.”

“Don’t they have travelling clothes?”

“Arthur thought it’d be a good idea to give them lighter cloaks with the Pendragon crest to set them apart. They have to be light enough that they can still be worn in warmer climates. And one light tunic for the same purpose.”

Gwen did a few mental calculations. “Alright. I should have that done by tomorrow afternoon. I can ask Ketal to help. Is that sufficient?”

“More than. You’re a genius with cloth, Gwen.” He stood again; no time to rest.

“You’re too kind. Now go on and find something to eat for yourself.” She flapped her hands, ushering him out, and then turned to the other ladies in the workroom. “Ketal, I need you to find the best red cloth we have for this. Luit, I need you to find our charts on Drin and Tristan’s measurements. Alison, it’s your turn to make the dragon patch.”

Merlin shut the door behind him and shook his head. One day, she was going to be queen, and she would find that she wasn’t as unprepared as she feared. She ran the workshop like a queendom. Everyone had duties, and she delegated with deft skill. On days without a looming deadline, she took the time to teach the younger girls the skills she had picked up in her many years of working. And Merlin had no doubt that if anyone ever tried to upset the balance, they would be met with an army of women with sharp needles just as lethal as a traditional pike.

The kitchen was another queendom within Camelot. It wasn’t terribly busy at the moment, but nonetheless, Merlin stayed out of the way and went straight for the table with packed lunches for the party that was going riding instead. Double-checking the number of packs, Merlin called out a thank you to the cooks.

“Is that Merlin?” Audrey yelled back. “Take a sweet cake for yourself, boy. And don’t let the knights eat all the stew.”

Merlin grinned—no promises—and stuffed the treat in his mouth while his arms were full of packs. The burst of cinnamon that Anna always added nearly made him sneeze, but he valiantly held it in. At least until he got to the stables and was able to set down the lunches and pull the cake out of his mouth. Then he sneezed loud enough for his horse to look at him strangely.

“Sorry, Numbra,” he said, patting her flank. “Anna hasn’t learned to tone down the cinnamon yet. And I haven’t learned not to shove it into my mouth without smelling it first.”

“Are you talking to your horse again, Merlin?”

Merlin whirled to see Arthur leaning against the stable wall, arms crossed, a mocking smile on his face. “I like talking to them more than I like talking to you, sire.”

“How so? They don’t talk back.”

“Exactly.”

Arthur, more than used to this, just rolled his eyes. “Are the bags packed for our ride?”

“Just about.” He quickly slid the lunches into his own saddle bags. “Done.”

“Just remember, this is a visiting king,” Arthur said sternly as they led their horses out of the stalls. “We want to make a good impression. Especially since two of our own will be travelling with him for a few years. We can’t give the impression that they’re not worth their weight and would be better left behind if things get rough.”

“You think he would do that?”

“I don’t know and I don’t want to find out,” Arthur said, low enough that only Merlin could hear. They drew up to the rest of the party; everyone else was already mounted. Sir Leon was talking with King Henry about the lands farther north that they had to pass through and the potential benefits of going by boat instead. Drin and Tristan were listening eagerly. Two knights from Loch Solma were also in attendance, talking to each other about the women they might find abroad.

The royals led the way out of the city gates and raced across the plain to the forest. The others followed at a more sedate pace, Merlin in particular not wanting the food to spill over into his saddle bag. He expected King Henry to pull out his crossbow and chase after any one of the large animals they had passed. Yet, he seemed uninterested.

In fact, he only stopped talking when he spotted a lone man walking through the forest. “Well met, fellow traveller!”

The man looked up in surprise, apparently only now noticing the riders. His eyes darted around, landing on Merlin before he bowed to the kings with a muttered greeting. He was going to continue walking, but King Henry stopped him with his words.

“Why don’t you join us for a meal? We have plenty to share.”

“I couldn’t.” The man shook his head. “I’m sure you don’t want to eat with the likes of me. I can tell you are fine folk.”

“Nonsense. I would love to hear the story of your travels.” King Henry dismounted. “This is a fine place for a picnic.”

Again, the man’s eyes drifted over to Merlin, who smiled gently and nodded. “If you insist,” he agreed softly.

Merlin laid down the blanket and the man set his pack on one corner. The royals instantly settled on the large blanket and Merlin rolled his eyes. At least the other knights helped pass out the food before sitting around the edges of the blanket to eat. Merlin settled next to the traveller and completed the circle.

Although King Henry had invited the man to join them, he was already in conversation with Arthur and Drin. Merlin took it upon himself to include the stranger. “I’m Merlin, as you may have heard. What’s your name?” Merlin asked, passing over some of his fruit.

“I’m called Tecca,” he responded.

“Where are you travelling to, Tecca?” King Henry asked, evidently only needing a push to include others in conversation.

“I’m looking to join with friends south of Camelot.”

King Henry continued to ask him questions about his friends, where he was travelling from, and what his family was like. Despite the innocent nature of the questions, Merlin could feel Tecca tensing up beside him. He smoothly redirected the conversation to what King Henry and his knights were hoping to find on their journey. While they began talking about the legends they had heard from their librarian in Loch Solma, Merlin tentatively reached out to Tecca telepathically.

_Tecca? You can relax._

The man started slightly, passing it off as shooing a bug away from his face. His eyes darted to Merlin, but he looked to be paying attention to one of the knights in a green cape. _Who are you?_

_I’m Merlin. I can’t speak for the king, but I can assure you that Prince Arthur won’t kill you immediately even if you’re a druid. He cares more about a person’s intentions._

_Truly? I’ve heard otherwise of the Pendragon son._

Merlin tipped his water skin upside down. “I think there’s a stream just through the woods. Does anyone else need more water?” he asked out loud while telepathically telling Tecca to join him.

The knights all passed their now empty water skins over, and Tecca offered to help Merlin carry them. They walked in silence until they reached the river. Looking around, Merlin cast a quick spell.

“There, that will ensure our words are private.” He sat down on the river bank with the water skins. “Arthur’s slowly becoming different from his father. It’s slow, but I’m working on it.”

“How are you working on it?” Tecca asked.

“I’m his manservant.” He smiled at the druid. “He confides in me.”

“His manservant has magic?” Tecca looked like he had stumbled into a dream. One of those strange ones where everything seemed normal except that apples tasted of cheese and evidently a sorcerer was serving at the heart of the kingdom that burned anyone remotely associated with magic.

“Of course, Arthur doesn’t know that. Not yet. But someday he will.” He dunked another skin into the stream. “Until then, I keep encouraging him to make choices for himself and to learn from his mistakes. He trusts me and I intend to use that trust to build him into the king I’ve seen glimpses of. He still has much to learn and many things he can’t control since his father still rules.”

“But you really believe he’ll be a different king?” Tecca asked.

“I really do. Are you heading to Iseildur’s camp?”

“His camp first, then farther south.”

“Talk with Iseildur then. He can tell you more about how Camelot’s been changing.”

The rest of the day was enjoyably relaxing for Merlin until King Henry declared that he would have his chefs prepare a course from their homeland at the farewell feast. Now, Merlin liked the visiting king, but he hadn’t met the cooks and if the dish was unknown to the Camelot cooks, then it would be far too easy to slip poison in the food.

And if it was based on a plant that wasn’t native to Camelot, then the existing charm Merlin used on Arthur’s food wouldn’t detect it. Which meant Merlin was back among the stacks of books, searching for a spell to detect and remove poisons in food.

Sir William walked in on him groaning in frustration, ten books spread open on his desk.

“You realise these are all books on poisons, right?” he asked.

“Well I am trying to find a charm to fight poisons,” Merlin replied.

“Would not a book on healing and antidotes be more useful than one instructing the reader on how to poison someone?”

Merlin blinked at him. Now that William mentioned it, it made perfect sense. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he moaned. “There’s two hours wasted.”

“Knowledge is never a waste. But you probably didn’t think of it because all the books on antidotes are hidden behind the mirror.”

Naturally. Anything that was an antidote to poisons would be considered too close to magic and thus would’ve been destined for the flames of the purge. Once again Merlin sent up a silent prayer of thanks for his father’s foresight to create this secret room.

Hidden behind a mirror that only Merlin could pass through, were seven large bookshelves full of books on magic that William and his father had hid when the Purge began. There had been a logical system of organization on the shelves at one point, but Merlin was awful about putting books back in the right place so piles had built up on the ground.

Gently nudging the self-cleaning sword out of his way, he set down the books he had been looking through and started pulling books off the shelf that might relate to antidotes. When he had filled his arms, he returned to the desk in the main library, and William grabbed one off the stack to help him look. They still had until tomorrow but Merlin would also need to catch up on the other chores he’d missed when out on the ride. Not everything could be done with magic.

“Merlin, look at this one.” William pushed the book he was reading to the centre of the table. “It won’t work for everything, but it’s an enchantment to nullify the effects of the most common food poisons.”

“That’d be great.” He scanned the page. “This looks like it’ll detect most of the poisons I check Arthur’s food for anyway and a couple I don’t.”

“And the book suggests casting it on the plate itself. A simple rune will light up to indicate which poison was detected as well.”

“I can hide that with a concealment charm. It’s not a difficult spell. I’ll need to renew it every couple of months to make sure it’s optimal. But this is definitely what I’m looking for.”

“Better test it out in here before you run on down to the kitchens then and place a faulty enchantment on every plate,” William said, standing up from the table. He took out one of their plates and handed it to Merlin. “Go practice on this one. I’ll ask the physician for one of these poisons.”

“I still can’t believe he trusts you sometimes.” Merlin laughed. “It’s a good thing he believes in testing science.”

William smiled in return, a matching mischievous glint in his eyes. “A good thing indeed.”

Everything ran smoothly. Merlin finished his other chores for the day, and when Arthur was in bed, he stole down to the kitchens and placed his enchantment on all of the plates bearing the royal seal. Another quick test showed that the rune could only be seen by Merlin if he ran his thumb over it, and the colour of the glow correctly identified the type of poison.

Then, the next day, he was relieved that no runes were visible when he cleared Arthur’s plates from the table after each course during the feast. If poisons had been used at the feast, they weren’t a type detected by his spells.

Arthur was in a pleasant mood when Merlin woke him before dawn to see the travellers off on their adventure.

“Do you know, I like Henry,” Arthur announced from behind the dressing screen. “There’s something fresh about him.”

“The fact that he’s a king who’s closer to your age than your father’s probably helps too,” Merlin commented, stoking up the fire.

“Huh. Yeah, I guess that, too. And he’s more friendly than other kings who have visited.” Arthur sat down for his breakfast. “I’ve never been with any other noble who would’ve invited that man in the woods to join us for lunch.”

“Tecca?”

“Yes. I was pleasantly surprised; yet, his knights acted as if it was normal.”

“He must have a good relationship with his people. That’s probably why he feels comfortable leaving his kingdom for so long.”

“He told me he left his sister in charge. She’d been trained to rule just as much as he had.” Arthur paused to chew his ham. A thoughtful look came over his face. “I’d like to have a good relationship with my people when I’m king.”

“I believe you will,” Merlin reassured him. He stood and made the bed. “You’ve already made good progress.”

Arthur didn’t seem convinced.

Merlin fluffed up the pillow and walked around the table to face Arthur directly. “Even the fact that you take walks through the marketplace and stop to talk with people makes them love you. When do you think was the last time your father did that?”

Arthur frowned and looked down at his plate.

“The people see you ride out on patrols, risking your life to keep the roads clear of bandits so that they can travel in greater safety. They see you among them as one of them. They trust you.”

“It doesn’t feel like it’s enough.”

“And maybe it’s not, but you still have time to learn. Maybe you can make an effort to spend more time in the villages farther from the city. Already, more commoners from the city have enlisted in training to be guards. Perhaps someday there’ll be commoners from all over the kingdom who’ll train to become knights.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Merlin waited until Arthur looked up again to respond in a quiet voice. “Would you volunteer to fight for something you didn’t believe in?” Leaving Arthur to think that over, Merlin walked to the window and looked out over the courtyard. “Now come on, I can see the stable hands getting the horses ready. You need to be down in the courtyard in a couple minutes. Apparently, they can't leave without you there to wave at them.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”


	4. Flowers for a Fool - Part 1 and only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is something suspicious about Arthur's courtship.

Gwen was working on sewing a new tunic for Lord Atwater when the sound of someone running down the corridor and slamming the door startled her. She looked up from her lap to see Merlin leaning against the door, breathing heavily but smiling brightly. 

“Are you hiding from Arthur again?” she asked. 

“Not Arthur. Tremi and his friends heard I have the whole day off and want to go drinking.” 

Gwen shook her head. She couldn’t believe Tremi still hadn’t learned that just because Merlin had a salary that allowed him to waste money on drink, he wouldn’t. Perhaps Tremi should learn from Merlin a little more. Then maybe he wouldn’t have to run so many extra errands.

“But I have better plans.” He pushed off from the door and sat himself in front of Gwen. “We,” he grinned widely, “are going on a picnic.”

Gwen immediately started to protest. “I have so much to get done. I can't afford any time off.”

“Nonsense. You have plenty of others in here to help you. And I know there are no feasts upcoming, so the nobles can wait a day.”

“But—”

“Nope. I won't hear of it. I feel like I haven’t spent time with you in ages.” Carefully but affirmatively, he pulled the fabric from her lap and handed it to another seamstress, who took it with a smile. 

Looking around she saw that Ketal, Rose, Courtney - scratch that, everyone in the workshop was smiling and trying not to meet her gaze. “Why do I get the feeling you’ve gotten my workers in on your scheme?”

“I wouldn't call it a scheme, per se. Merely a plan. Now.” He pulled her to her feet. “Go and change into a dress you won't mind getting grass stains on and meet me by the stables in five minutes.” With another grin, he ran back out of the workroom before she could protest. 

Gwen looked back at the other seamstresses who technically answered to her. None of them would meet her eyes. “Traitors,” she muttered. 

 

“So, was I right?” Merlin asked as they watched the sunset. 

Gwen stuck her tongue out at him. “Fine. It was a good plan.” 

Merlin had lead her outside the city walls and down to a grassy spot on the river bank for lunch. It had been a simple meal in a picnic blanket, but Merlin had made sure to grab a few buttery rolls from the kitchen. 

The weather was still warm, so after lunch, Merlin ran to the water and Gwen hiked up her skirts to join him. 

After thoroughly soaking themselves with a water battle, they raced across the plains and into the forest. Merlin took the opportunity to gather a couple herbs for use in potions, and Gwen picked some flowers to spruce up her home. They rode around the forest, Merlin leading her down paths she said she’d never travelled, before they arrived at Lookout Point. 

It was a simple hill, adorned only by an abandoned tower. There were a few trees leading up the hill but most had been cut down to provide a clear sightline for the watch tower. A few seedlings had started, and Merlin quietly encouraged them with his magic whenever he came up here. A little nudge of his magic was all it took. 

It was one of Merlin’s favourite places in Camelot. He felt a connection to the land here. He liked this place for the view it provided of Camelot. The unobscured castle walls rose high above the trees and glittered when the sun shone. Sometimes, when the pressure of his destiny seemed too great, he came here to remind himself of the bigger picture. 

For now, he leaned against the exterior walls and watched the sun sink below the trees to the west. Gwen’s company was enough to keep him in high spirits. 

“Maybe you’ll let me take you on picnics more often before the weather turns?” Merlin asked. 

“Only if there’s not too much work to do,” Gwen replied. “And not just in the workshop. I don’t know what you told Arthur to get the day off, but even I know it’s rare.”

“Perhaps I can’t get the whole day off, but we should take our work outside at the very least. You and I have been far too busy lately. I miss the lunches you shared with me when I first came to Camelot.”

“I still can’t figure out how you managed to eat anything with all the complaining you did.”

“It’s just one of my many skills.”

They sat in silence, reflecting on the daily chaos of Camelot. “Tomorrow then?” Merlin asked.

“I’ll meet you in the garden.”

When Merlin arrived the next morning to serve Arthur his breakfast, he noticed an elaborate display of flowers on the mantelpiece, some tall enough to brush the sword mounted on the wall above. Now, normally, the mantlepiece was empty save for Arthur’s crown, a small portrait of his mother, and dust. When Merlin asked Arthur about them, he refused to say who they were from and Merlin let it drop. 

Over the next week, Merlin continued to take his polishing duties outside to sit in the garden with Gwen while the weather was still pleasant. 

And each evening Merlin found new flowers in Arthur’s room. It wasn’t until the 25th of September that they noticed anything amiss.

“Oh, Gwen was telling me, well hinting at, okay, she implied, that she would like to have lunch with you in the gardens,” Merlin was saying. “Not exclusively with you, but she would like you to join us. Although I think she does want to have some one-on-one time with you, if you know what I mean.” He waggled his eyebrows. Someday, he would get Arthur to publicly court Gwen. 

“You must’ve been mistaken,” Arthur said as he pulled on his nightclothes.

“No, I’m very good at reading people and Gwen wasn’t being subtle.”

“But I had lunch with her only yesterday.” 

Merlin paused in his cleaning. “Yesterday?”

“Yes, yesterday. Do you need a reminder of how days of the week work?” Arthur stepped out from behind the screen. 

“No. Only, I had lunch with her yesterday. All this past week in fact.” He turned to meet Arthur’s eyes. 

In any other kingdom they might’ve assumed Gwen was having lunch with them both or one of them was misremembering things, but this was Camelot. A tendril of dread curled through Merlin’s chest. 

“So did I.” Arthur sat down at his table. “That’s who I got those flowers from.”

Merlin straightened up and peered at the flowers. It was faint - it would require a closer look without Arthur in the room - but he thought he could detect a dusting of magic. “This isn’t good.”

“No.”

“Before we jump to conclusions, I say we continue as normal tomorrow, but pay close attention to the chimes.” Merlin finished tending the fire and turned down the bed. “I’ll spend the day with Gwen again and you can laze around in here or whatever.”

“I do not laze!” Arthur protested. “I’ve been working on reports and balancing taxes. All those extra duties my father’s been giving me lately.”

“Okay, fine, stay in here working until Gwen comes again. Is she coming again?”

“She never says,” Arthur said, climbing into bed. “She just comes if she’s not busy. Never stays too long either.”

“Well then, we’ll both stay alert tomorrow. Goodnight, Arthur.”

“Goodnight, Merlin.”

As Arthur expected, a soft knock on his door interrupted his report reading just after the noon bell. “Come in,” he called, marking his place and setting the papers aside.

“Good afternoon, sire.” Gwen bobbed a curtsey as she walked in, balancing a tray laden with food on her left hip. “I brought you lunch if you’re not too busy.”

“No, of course not.” Arthur stood and gestured for her to set the tray down on the table. “I’m never too busy for you.” He still felt fond of her, even knowing that somehow she might be an imposter. He didn’t want to act harshly toward her until they knew for sure. It was more likely that Merlin had been fooled anyways. 

“You’re too kind, sire.”

“Arthur, please, as long as we are alone.” And wasn’t that a pleasant thought. A voice that sounded like his father reminded him of how improper this was. Not to mention the additional complication. He shoved the thought far away and stuffed it under a log for good measure. “Sit, I can pour us some water.”

“No, no. I’ve got it. I need to water these flowers anyways. You may be good at a lot of things, but I’m sure no one has taught you how to care for plants.”

He laughed as she took the pitcher from the table and moved to his fireplace. “That’s true. I’ll get out an extra plate for you then.” Arthur took another plate from his cupboard, watching her in his peripheral. She placed another couple flowers on the ledge and then stroked the petals before watering each one. He couldn’t tell for sure, but she seemed to be muttering to the plants. “Does talking to flowers help?”

She jumped slightly; he wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t watching carefully. “Yes, or at least, I like to think it does.” She returned to the table and poured the rest of the water into their glasses before taking a seat. “I know a few other women who agree with me, but it still feels rather silly. It’s not like they have ears.”

Arthur didn’t really know what to say to that so he clumsily switched the topic and indicated that they should start eating. His appetite waned as the meal progressed. Now that he was paying attention, something wasn’t right.

Anytime he tried to ask her about something personal, she managed to give a vague answer and turn the conversation around to talk about him. Even answers about the work she did were vague, and Arthur ended up talking about the new recruits before he even realised it. As loathe as he was to admit it, Merlin was right. Something was wrong. He hadn’t realised it before, but Gwen hadn’t stuttered once during these lunches. 

“Arthur, is something on your mind? You’re quiet.”

“Sorry, yes, it’s these reports,” he lied. 

“Can I help you with them? I won’t share any of the secrets I read. I may be a slow reader, but sometimes two sets of eyes are better than one.”

“No, but I appreciate the offer. The break for lunch with you was already helpful, but I really must return to them.” He stood from the table. “Thank you for the pleasant meal.”

There was a fleeting look of irritation on her face, her dark eyebrows scrunching before she smiled at him. “Of course.” She gathered up the dishes on the tray and paused by the fireplace on her way out. Again, Arthur couldn’t make out the words she whispered to the plants, but they seemed more harsh than before. “I’ve just told them to let off some pleasant smells to help you concentrate.”

Somehow, Arthur doubted that was true, but he thanked her nonetheless and shut the door behind her. He sat back at his desk and hoped Merlin would return soon. 

Merlin rushed into Arthur’s chambers. He closed the door and they met each other’s eyes. “There’s an imposter,” Merlin said sadly.

“Don’t even try to say you told me so.”

“For once, it was the furthest thing from my mind. I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Merlin. I realised today how much of our conversations didn't seem like the Gwen we know. I was just too happy to spend time with her like that and I didn’t look too closely at it.”

Merlin sat on the chest at the foot of the bed. Arthur set aside his reports. Neither were feeling particularly smart. Merlin should’ve detected the magic on the flowers sooner. He should’ve realised that only Gwen would make Arthur that cagey about who had given them to him. Whatever enchantment was on the flowers may have even heightened it. The sidhe had done something similar, but this was more subtle. 

This imposter was smart. Arthur wasn’t acting out of character. They weren’t a suspicious jester with shoddy magic skills. No one saw two Gwens running around. If they had, Uther would’ve called for a witch hunt in an instant and neither of them would be sharing lunch with Gwen. “Oh no,” Merlin said. “What if the imposter doesn’t just take the form of Gwen? What if they could be anyone?”

“Even the king.” Arthur looked horrified.

Merlin quickly protested, “I don’t think they’ve done that. All we know so far is that they’re playing on your affections for Gwen. I think if they wanted to take over the kingdom, they wouldn't be bothering to sit with you and listen to you talk all afternoon.” 

It earned him a flick on the ear, but Merlin’s distraction worked. “But they could still be anyone.”

“Even us.” They both narrowed their eyes at one another. Merlin said, “What is something you’ve only told me?”

Arthur thought for a moment. “You went with me when Morgause took me to see someone. Who was it and what did they say?”

Merlin answered instantly, “It was your mother. She told you she was proud of the man you’d become and said that someday you would have a circle of men around you to lead Camelot into a new era.” 

Arthur nodded. “Ask me something.”

“When you came to Ealdor, I told you how Will and I became friends.”

“You said you had managed to cut down a big tree, and it fell towards the village, nearly smashing Old Man Simmons’s house. Will grabbed you and ran, and you both camped out in a cave for two days until your mother came looking for you and found you with a family of rabbits and two deer for friends. I still have trouble believing that part of your story.”

“I told you, I don’t remember it, only my mother’s retelling.”

“And that’s the only reason why I believe it. I don’t think Hunith would lie to me.”

Merlin wisely let that comment pass. “We need a code phrase. We can’t keep asking each other for past secrets whenever we see each other.” He rested his chin on his hands and stared into the middle distance. “We could ask each other what our favourite flower is.”

“Unlike you, Merlin, I’m not a girl.”

“Alright, fine. I could ask you if the Northern patrol found anything and you could respond that they found naught but a flightless falcon.” It was the idea Merlin had thought of first, but he hadn’t been able to resist teasing Arthur with the other. 

“That’s... actually that’s not bad.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I must admit I am. I didn’t think you’d have the mind for subterfuge,” Arthur said. 

Merlin crossed his arms and scowled. “More than you know,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“I said, now we’ve got work to do.” He stood and took a deep breath.

“Yeah.” Arthur pushed himself up from the table. “We know there’s an imposter. They’ve taken at least Guinevere's form. It must be magic.”

“We don’t know if it’s a spell or a magical creature that’s doing this. We don’t know what they want.”

“That’s at least something we can start on. Merlin, you go to the library and see if you and William can determine if this is a magical creature or a spell and how to defeat it.”

Merlin nodded. “And you?”

“I’ll go to my father and tell him we need to use the disks.”

“No,” Merlin said immediately.

“What? They’re our best chance of catching who or whatever is doing this.” Arthur’s brows scrunched up. “You know they detect strong magic and this seems like something powerful. Do you not want this stopped?”

“No, of course I do.” Merlin thought fast. “I was only thinking maybe you shouldn’t tell your father yet. I know we don’t think the imposter has become him, but we can’t be too cautious.” Merlin held his breath while Arthur thought it over. “And you know if we told him there were two of Gwen, he would accuse her of witchcraft and neither of us would get to see her for lunch.”

“Fine. But only until we know for sure what the cause of this is,” Arthur agreed. “I can’t keep my father out of the loop entirely. Especially if we check his chambers anyway as a precaution.”

“Of course.” And with that, they left Arthur’s chambers. Arthur turned to collect some guards and go to the vaults while Merlin hurried to the library. 

He made Sir William start when he burst in and locked the door behind him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, hurriedly blotting the parchment. 

Merlin watched him inspect the page, trying to determine if it could be saved. “Arthur’s bringing out the disks,” he said, hating the words even as he said them. Being a creature of magic himself, his magic would always be detected by the disk. It was only a very clever lie by William that had saved him when Merlin first came to Camelot. 

Ever since then, Merlin had had to forcibly bind his magic deep inside him whenever the disks would be used. It hurt more each time. He was glad that they were only used when the magic was expected to be above the background level of enchantments built into Camelot’s walls when the citadel was first constructed. 

Or when Uther ordered surprise searches, hunting for enchantments that had slipped past the guards. As far as Merlin knew, the random searches had never found anything, but it reminded people of the power Uther had to interfere in everyone’s lives. 

“Oh, my boy. I’m sorry.” William came over to embrace Merlin in a comforting hug. “What is it this time?”

Merlin sighed and ended the hug. There wasn’t time to enjoy the comfort. “Where might I find books on disguises?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“There are two Gwens in the castle at the moment. Have been for a week. Neither Arthur nor I noticed. And the flowers the imposter-Gwen left in Arthur’s room definitely have magic on them but not any magic I recognise.”

“Ah, let’s assume non-human then. You would be wanting shelf 22 then, third row from the top, I expect.”

“Thanks.” Merlin dashed to the shelf and surveyed the books. Not really knowing what he was looking for, he took all of them. With a large thud, he dropped them on the table unofficially reserved for his research. 

“Goodness boy. Don’t you know how to read the spines?” William came over to the table. “This one is clearly about daily life in Avalon. This is about the gateways. These two are about court fashions in the unseelie realm; don’t ask why we have it. This one is just a book of family history.” 

Some more muttering and half of the stack was dismissed as useless. “I thought I taught you better than this. Now go return the others, in order, mind you, and we can start on these.”

“It's a gancana,” Merlin said, striding into Arthur’s chambers with his supper. 

“Bless you.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “It's a type of faerie in the unseelie court. Apparently it’s rare for them to cross into our world; this one must be particularly bold. They live to find out secrets. Perfect for blackmail and manipulation. Typically they serve a superior, but they can work alone.”

“Guinevere, or I guess the imposter, has been asking about troubles in court more than I would expect from her.” In fact, Arthur often learned court gossip from Gwen, rather than the other way around. “And how do we kill this–what did you say it was called?”

“A gancana.” Merlin picked a grape off Arthur’s tray. “The book didn't say how to kill it, but we might not need to. The book says they’re naturally timid so if we chase it off, it won't return. We just have to show Camelot is not to be messed with.”

“And you’re sure it’ll stay away?”

“I can't be completely sure, but that's our best guess so far. I could only find the species mentioned in two books.” Merlin shrugged. “We can always resort to stabbing next.”

“So how do we chase it away?”

Merlin slowly let a grin spread across his face. “I was waiting for you to ask.” He could see Arthur’s dread. It made his next words even sweeter. “We’re using you as bait.”

It was fun to tease Arthur, but when Merlin left his chambers, his smile fell, and he hurried toward the dungeons. Leaning over the railing, he threw a pebble to distract the guards. When they were looking in the other direction, he darted down the narrow tunnel and raced down the stairs to the cavern where the dragon once lived. 

Once there, he released the constrictive hold he had maintained on his magic since Arthur had fetched the disks from the vaults. A deep sigh escaped. Laying down on his back, he let his magic flow out to cover the entirety of the cavern. He felt he could map it all out in his mind. Slowly, he directed his magic to smooth away rough edges and secure any rocks teetering on the edge of collapse. 

Merlin hated it whenever the guards brought out the disks. There were many instruments of magic confiscated in the Purge that were kept in the vaults, but many he was able to trick with magic of his own. The disks didn’t work that way. 

They detected everything. Merlin had snuck into the vaults once and tried to use charms to disable them or figure out how they worked, but all he’d succeeded in doing was making the gem in the centre of the flat disk light up different colours. There were runes on the flat parts, too; perhaps he would have to try to translate those again now that his grasp on the language had improved. 

But for now, whenever the disks were brought out to hunt down powerful sorcerers or creatures of magic, Merlin had to be incredibly careful with his magic. It was William who had taught him how to meditate early on. Using a similar technique, Merlin could dim his magical aura to almost nothing. It had become harder as his magical potential grew and this time was far worse than ever before. 

It felt like the worst of winters without food mixed with a serket sting through the heart and a noble sitting on his lungs in full armor. He’d looked through books for ways to mask his magic that wasn’t as painful, but to no avail. They either claimed this method didn’t hurt - it did - or a potion was suggested that would actually use up a person's magic for the day; it only used up his for two hours.

Which lead to him sneaking down here in the evenings and letting his magic play. He reached up a hand, and a tendril of golden magic twisted around his arms. With hardly a thought, he directed it upwards to form a stone chandelier. Glowing orbs drifted up to adorn the sculpture. He would make a few more stone sculptures in the large cavern before retiring to his own bed. 

“Actually, Guinevere,” Arthur said when the imposter walked in the next day. “I was thinking we could eat outside today. Take a short ride into the shade of the forest.”

She hesitated, then smiled. “A picnic sounds lovely.”

“I thought you’d agree.” Arthur stood. “I already sent Merlin on ahead to lay out the blanket and prepare our lunch.” He steered her out the door. Passing the tray of food to one of his guards, he suggested that they enjoy a nice lunch since they were no longer needed to guard his chambers. 

Cameron looked down at the plate, befuddled; he was sure he had just seen Gwen heading into town with a basket of deliveries. 

Sticking to lesser used passageways, Arthur and Gwen made their way to the stables, where Sir Leon was waiting to escort them to the forest. Although Arthur frequently broke protocol and rode out alone, today, he decided a guard would be smart. 

Gwen seemed unnerved by the extra company, but soon they came to a clearing and Sir Leon tied up their horses to a tree. He nodded subtly to Arthur and began a perimeter search. Taking Gwen’s hand, Arthur drew her into the sunlight, where a picnic blanket had been laid out, food already served. 

“Merlin did a good job,” Gwen complimented.

“Indeed,” Arthur commented lightly, fluffing up the pillows for the lady, even if he knew it wasn’t Gwen. “I wonder where he’s run off to.”

Merlin was, at that moment, leading ten knights and four competent guardsmen to the picnic location. Although he had told Arthur about the picnic location, he had neglected to mention that it also happened to be the largest fairy ring in Camelot. It was tricky business. Without the proper precautions, even Merlin became trapped inside the mushroom rings. And this time his father would not be around to rescue him. 

He hoped it would be strong enough to contain the gancana until the second part of his plan arrived. He had set up the picnic by levitating everything from outside the ring, not wanting to tempt fate. He only broke one glass in the attempt.

And that little bit of magical release made it slightly easier to ride with the guardsmen who held the disks. They flanked the group, riding with the disks, watching the gemstones as they rode. Even though Merlin was keeping his magic bound, sometimes the disks would flicker green, but never long enough for them to warn the knights.

They stayed that way until they reached the clearing. Merlin glanced over to see the gemstones starting to glow a deep magenta. He didn’t know they lit up that colour. Sir Galehodin gave the signal for the group to spread out around the edge of the clearing and watch for the signal. 

While Merlin waited for the right moment, he couldn’t help but watch as the glow from the disks grew brighter. 

“Ah, there he is,” Arthur said. 

Merlin walked out of the shadow of the trees, staying on the outside of the mushrooms, and the riders followed his lead. The disks were a brilliant magenta. 

“You said you’d have strawberries; I don't see any.”

“I said no such thing.” Merlin countered. “Those aren't in season anymore in Camelot. For that matter, neither are the fae.”

At that, the knights drew their swords and Arthur did the same. He pointed it at the gancana’s heart. 

“Arthur?” she asked, voice shaking. “What’s going on?” 

“You can drop the act,” Arthur replied, his voice hard as iron. “We know you aren’t Guinevere. You’re an imposter.”

“What? Of course it’s me,” she protested. 

Arthur waved his free hand and the guards held up their disks. “These indicate otherwise.” The guards were spread out in the circle of men; she couldn't escape seeing the damning magenta glow. 

With a very unnatural snarl, she dropped the guise. She was still the same height, but nearly everything else changed. Her cotton dress became moss, her skin the colour of a dried corn husk, and her eyes a vivid green. Her ears lengthened and stuck out from her frizzy hair. 

Arthur backed up a step, but the sword in his hand remained steady.

“I was so close,” the gancana sneered. “My master’s plan would’ve been complete. You would’ve been disgraced, flirting with a serving girl. Your secrets would be the town gossip. And then what would the world think of the shining Prince of Camelot?”

“The world would think no worse of him,” Merlin said in a quiet, stern voice. The gancana turned to look at him. “They would see a prince who chose love over political gain. They would see hope for a queen who could understand the problems of the common people. They would see a prince who is his own man, not a duplicate of his father. They would see Arthur.”

She cocked her head to the side and looked more closely at the man speaking. He wasn’t holding a sword; he wasn’t one of the shiny men who could hurt her. And yet something in the way he spoke made her fear him more than the others. The sword to her chest seemed far less worrisome than provoking the wrath of this man. 

Arthur was also surprised by the tone of Merlin’s voice, but before he could add anything further, a crack of thunder ripped through the air and shook their bones. A tall woman with long dark hair appeared in the center of the clearing. Her flowing midnight blue and black cloak danced in a nonexistent wind. Her alabaster skin made the gancana look even more sickly as she grabbed her arm. 

The gancana tried to pull away, but the stranger held tight. 

The knights urged their horses closer, Leon straining to leap between Arthur and the gancana. Arthur’s sword didn’t waver despite his confusion.

“I’ll be taking this one off of your hands,” she said imperiously. With a firm tug, she pulled the gancana away from Arthur. “She will bother you no further. You can return those disks,” she spat the word like a curse, “to the vaults. Or better yet to the hellfires of the earth.” 

“You won’t be in power forever,” the gancana spat. “Change is coming. My master has foreseen it.”

The strange woman pinned the gancana with her stare and the other shrunk back. She said sternly, “It’s time to leave. And don’t expect to return.” She gave a slight nod in Arthur’s direction and then vanished as fast as she had come, taking the gancana with her.

The lights of the disk dimmed to nothing. Nobody moved. Nobody was sure what happened. Nobody except Merlin.

“I guess that gets rid of our problem,” Merlin said cheerfully.

Arthur sheathed his sword and turned to face his servant. “How does that get rid of our problem? That creature’s still alive, we don’t know who took it away and what she’s planning, but she’s clearly a sorceress. Not to mention, by now gossip must have spread and all of Camelot will know we were hunting a creature yet we’ll return with no body. What will my father say?”

“Did you tell him how we were planning to kill the creature?” Merlin asked. 

“No. I wasn’t sure whether your idea would work; it was so half-baked.” Arthur walked closer to Merlin to mock him. “Just go have a picnic in this clearing I picked out for you and then we’ll surround it with knights. That should scare it away. My father would’ve laughed at such idiocy.”

“Then tell him you stabbed it through the heart with your blade, and with a fearsome shriek, it exploded into dust,” Merlin suggested. “I’m sure everyone here will back you up. It’s not like anyone wants to spend another month on high alert when we know the creature’s gone.”

Merlin glanced pointedly around the circle of knights. None of them spoke up to contradict him. Even Galehodin would rather lie to Uther than wake up for dawn patrol for another month. 

“I don’t know if I would trust the woman,” Sir Bors spoke up. “But she had the same expression my mother had when she would punish my brother and me. I don’t believe she’s going to let the creature out of her sight.”

Arthur crossed his arms, turning back to Merlin. “And where’s the proof of this giant dust explosion?” He said nothing about the rest. As much as he cared for the safety of his city, even he had to admit that the king was overzealous when it came to putting everyone on high alert. 

“You could always roll in the dirt.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes and Merlin quickly suggested an alternative, “Or just say you rinsed off in the river to avoid bringing any magical residue into the city.”

“That’s much better.” Arthur walked back to his horse and gestured for the others to follow him. “I trust you can clean this up, Merlin.”

Merlin waited for the knights to get out of sight before calling out to Arthur. “Don’t forget to dunk your hair in the river at least!”

 

When Merlin went to wash his face that evening, he saw a face other than his own peering out of the water basin. He leapt backwards with a yelp. “Morgan!” 

She grinned up at him. “Hello, Emrys.”

“There has got to be something seriously wrong with you if you think appearing in my water basin in the middle of the night is acceptable.” He narrowed his eyes. “And how long have you been there listening anyways?”

“Long enough to know that your pronunciation of Greek needs serious work if you’re ever going to try spells in that language.”

“Give me a break; I only started a couple months ago and I’ve barely had time to practice. Unlike you, I have chores. Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Her smile faded. “Those disks. You must destroy them.”

“I told you I can’t. Uther would notice if they were gone and he would find other things to use. Not to mention the hunt that would start to find who stole them. There’s only so much magic we can pass off as residuals.”

Morgan opened her mouth to retort but Merlin didn’t let her. “No, you don’t live here. You don’t have to live with the paranoia. I’ve been in the vaults, and there are a lot of things that I never want to go near again. The disks, at least, do no harm and I can hide my magic from them.”

“For how much longer, Emrys? You and I both know your power is growing. I could still feel your power today in the woods even if the disks couldn’t pick it up with Corna there.”

It was true. Although he suspected that as the leader of the Unseelie Court, Morgan was especially good at reading auras. But that didn’t explain the other part of her statement. “Corna?”

Morgan rolled her eyes. “The gancana. You didn’t think to ask her name?”

“We didn’t know for sure it wasn’t Gwen until only this afternoon. Forgive me for focusing on leading her to you rather than asking her life story.”

“Leading her to me?” Morgan raised her eyebrows. “You call trapping her in a fairy ring leading her to me?”

“It’s a gateway to Avalon, is it not? I can’t exactly write a letter and send it through the mundane channels.” Merlin crossed his arms over his chest even though she probably couldn’t see. “And you did find her.”

“Only because I’ve been looking for her ever since her brother came to me worried. And then when I felt your aura shrink back from Camelot, well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out where to look.” She smiled, her green eyes dancing in delight. “You attract trouble like a Chagford attracts bees.”

Merlin’s mouth dropped open, quite offended. “Get out of my bowl.”

“Fine. Next time I won’t drop by to give you a warning.”

“Must it be in my wash basin? Someone else might’ve been in my room. Isn’t there a better way to scry?”

“Well, it’d be more unusual for you to have a hand mirror in your room.”

Merlin sighed. “True. Arthur teases me enough as is for being girly.” He paused, thinking over what she had said. “What warning?”

“Just a warning that destiny is accelerating.” Her tone sucked the joviality from the room. “You may need to be more involved than you already are. You may need to step out of the shadows.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now you've met the wonderful Morgan le Fay. She's a bit like the BBC version, but mostly she's inspired by Arthurian Mythology.


	5. Devil’s in the Details - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short but fun chapter.

As much as he was loathe to admit it, after speaking with William, Merlin realised that Morgan was right. He couldn’t stay in the shadows forever. But leaving those shadows did not mean leaving his anonymity. 

The secret library within the mirror had a book on magical disguises. Merlin spent the next week practicing the different spells every free moment he had. It was becoming tedious, however, to step through the mirror to cast a spell and then step back out to see how well he did. Not to mention the ever present risk that someone other than William would actually come toward the back of the library and see him stepping out of the mirror and call sorcery. 

There were some mishaps at the beginning—blue skin, total hair loss, sudden fangs, things of that sort—but soon he got the hang of it. With a string of spells, he was able to transform himself into someone wholly unrecognisable. Or at least he thought so. No true test was complete until there was market research. Or in this case, marketplace research. 

And so Merlin took a walk out to the forest, transformed his appearance, and approached the Camelot gates disguised as a farmer a few years older than himself. He had a short brown beard and scruffy hair, which was mostly hidden by a straw hat to protect from the sun. His tunic was a light brown and his usual boots had been traded for the sandals the adults in his village wore for working in the fields. His jacket he had stuffed into his pack. 

The guard at the gate stopped him. “What’s your business?” 

Merlin was surprised; he was used to running through undisturbed. “I’m a traveller,” he replied. “Just passing through.”

“Are you spending the night in the city?”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Just wanted to get some food in the market before moving on.”

“The market is straight ahead. The gates close an hour after sunset. See that you are out by then.”

“Yes, of course.” Merlin bowed respectfully to the guard and hurried on. He wondered if it was common to be questioned like that. When he first came to Camelot, he had only said he was coming to study with Sir William and he had been immediately directed to the castle.

He wondered if something in his disguise had made him look untrustworthy. Was a farmer on his own in the big city that suspicious? Or was it that he wasn’t bringing food to trade? It wasn’t harvest time yet. Perhaps it seemed strange that any farmer would be travelling this close to harvest and that was the cause of the questioning. 

Merlin glanced back over his shoulder. There were others being questioned as well, but he saw no one being turned away. Regardless, it was clear that he needed to give more thought to coming up with a reason for being someplace when he was in disguise. He’d become lazy; Arthur was easily distracted by ridiculous and often rambling stories. That would never work for a disguise. And even if he tried it, if he ever found himself in front of Arthur, it would surely make him suspicious. 

He was briefly distracted from his musings when he passed Sir Leon on the market paths. “Morning, Leon,” he greeted out of habit.

Leon turned and frowned, one hand resting on his hilt. “How do you know my name?”

Silently, Merlin cursed. A traveller wouldn’t know the names of the knights of Camelot. And even the townsfolk only greeted a knight by name if they were family. 

“I, er, didn’t know it was your name,” Merlin fumbled for an excuse. 

“Then why did you say it?” 

Merlin backed up a step. “Well, I was practicing. My son’s name is Leon, too, you see, or it will be if the birth goes well. I’m practicing saying good morning to him. I don’t want him to be confused if I mess up and say the wrong name. Although I guess it could be a girl. We don’t really know, but I hope I’ll have a son.” So much for not rambling. 

Leon’s hand relaxed from his belt. “It’s a fine name to choose if you do have a son. Carry on.” He walked away from Merlin, a little faster than he had before. 

Merlin sighed. Ridiculous stories really were his default answer for anything. It worked great for hiding his magic, especially when he was a kid, but he’d have to train himself to do otherwise. He needed to create a complete character. One with enough of a life that he would have an answer prepared. Not feel the instinct to ramble like he just had. Perhaps his day in the market would be shorter than he’d planned for if it was going this poorly already.

The next day, Merlin once again cheated on his morning chores and hurried out to the forest. He’d been up late preparing a new disguise and was eager to test it out. 

He didn’t even make it into the city. He was still staring at his greying beard in the river and fidgeting with his longer hair - it kept blowing in his eyes - when a familiar voice called out,  “Hello?”

Merlin turned to see Gwen with a small basket partially filled with flowers. Remembering his lesson from yesterday, he didn’t greet her as usual. “Oh hello, young miss,” he said, remembering to talk in a deeper voice. “I didn’t hear you approach.”

Gwen smiled kindly. “People say I walk softly. It’s easier to hear the sounds of nature if you do.”

“That’s very true. Do you come out here often?”

“As often as I can,” she said. “I’m usually busy in the castle, but my girls said they could do without me this morning.” She huffed. “I’m beginning to think I’m not wanted anymore. Ever since Merlin won them over to his side, they seem intent on kicking me out whenever they can.”

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh at that. Although his laugh was so sudden he forgot to make sure it was different than his natural laugh. He tried to cover it up with a cough as soon as he realised. “Is this Merlin a friend of yours?”

Gwen was looking at him strangely, but still she answered, “Yes. One of my closest friends. Are you alright? You aren’t ill are you? I can walk you to the physician.”

“Oh, no it’s no trouble. I’m on my way home to my wife.” Merlin dramatically looked away to the east. 

“Is it a long way to go? I don’t want to keep you with my foolish talk.”

“Actually, I’m looking to buy her a small present. If it's not too much trouble, could you show me to the marketplace?”

“How thoughtful!” Gwen’s smile grew wider. “I’d love to show you around. It’s just through the gates over there.”

For Merlin, this was much better than yesterday. Aside from Gwen still shooting strange looks at his occasionally modulating voice - he’d have to work on that - no one seemed suspicious. If anything, everyone was extra friendly since he was being shown around by Gwen. Just as he did, she knew all of the vendors by name. Unlike him, she was childhood friends with many of them or they knew her father. 

Everywhere they went, she inquired about some small detail of their lives and they did the same to her. Even when Gwen left to return to the castle, the vendors were extra friendly while he shopped since they’d seen him with Gwen. He didn’t want to be rude, so he chatted, but a small part of his mind starting thinking about invisibility spells. He knew this disguise wouldn’t be good for stepping out of the shadows if everyone thought he was a friend of Gwen’s. He didn’t want her hurt in any way. People associated with sorcerers were treated just as harshly as the sorcerer themself.

The bells were chiming noon when he purchased a thick shawl that he could send to his mother and left the city. Feeling adventurous, he chanted another set of spells and changed his appearance once again.

And once again, he didn’t make it out of the forest before he saw someone he knew. 

“Gilli?”


	6. Devil’s in the Details - Part 2

Gilli fidgeted with the ring around his finger as he sat on a stump in the Angora Woods. Not the magic one from his father. No, that was too dangerous to wear this close to Uther and his patrols. This was a simple band of leather twisted with blue thread. It had been given to him by Merlin as a sign of trust. 

Some days, he doubted Merlin’s reasons for giving it to him; he was nowhere near as great as the other wizard. Merlin had found him marching into Camelot to rescue his younger sister from the dungeons and intending to cut down anyone who stood in his way, with magic or with his blade, it didn’t matter. His mind had been clouded with anger, yet in the moment it had felt so clear. He had only cared about saving his sister. 

Merlin had already been in the process of rescuing Elaine when Gilli had found them. His sister had still been in the cell and Merlin had the keys in his hand, walking toward the door. In his anger, he’d tried to strike down Merlin, thinking he was there to lead her to Uther. He’d ran forward with a yell and raised his blade high, wanting to feel the impact of steel on bone. 

Much to his surprise, without even speaking a word, Merlin had thrown up a shield to protect himself. Elaine had rushed to explain who he was and, with a wary look in his eyes, Merlin had led them down to the cavern below. Gilli had barely trusted the man and held Elaine’s hand tightly, firmly keeping himself as a human shield between her and Merlin. Not that it had stopped Elaine and Merlin from having a cheerful conversation about this new ingredient traders from far away had brought and Merlin had been adding to chicken dishes. Just when a long, dark staircase couldn’t get more dull.

Gilli huffed, remembering the surprise that had awaited him. He had heard the rumours of the last dragon being captured by Uther, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the large head swooping down to inspect him. The dragon had spoken with Merlin in another language and evidently, something had been decided. Gilli still didn’t know what.

But then the dragon had flown out of sight, the chain vanishing into darkness, and Merlin had shown them to a small cot tucked into a tunnel. He’d assured them that he’d be back in the morning to lead them out of the city. 

Gilli had wanted to leave right then and there, still foolishly thinking he could protect himself and his sister just fine, thank you. But she’d always been the voice of reason in their relationship and he’d listened to her. They had taken turns keeping watch anyway. And Merlin had been true to his word and even brought breakfast for their journey.

What had followed was a wild escape and a lesson in how to use the most subtle of magic. Torches had sparked and doors had creaked in a magical wind, and they had watched as guards went running to investigate. Even after nearly a full day of hiding in the caves, the guards had still been hunting for the escaped prisoner. Somewhere along the way, Gilli had been forced to admit that he’d never have made it all the way out of the city without Merlin’s help. 

But make it out of the city they had. And from there, Merlin had led them to Iseildur’s camp. There, Elaine had found a home among the druid women. They had taken her into the fold, given her fresh clothes, washed and braided her hair, and listened to her when she told stories. It had been odd for Gilli at first. Real adults were able to look after his sister for the first time in nearly a decade. 

It had taken a few months, but slowly Gilli had been able to shake the need to constantly be watching over Elaine. He actually had time to himself for once. Merlin, during one of the many times he’d came back to the camp, had helped Gilli realise that he could live as his own man now. 

Merlin had gone out of his way to help Gilli get settled in with the druids even when it meant an extra trip out of the city. And he had treated Gilli like an equal. He had teased him when a spell for changing the colour of a rock had accidentally changed it to look like a fish and he had frequently sat with him around the campfire long after everyone had gone to bed. Merlin had entertained him with stories of Arthur and Camelot, bringing life to a place that seemed only to exist in his nightmares. 

When Merlin wasn’t around, Gilli had taken time to learn more magic from the druid teachers. In the course of his lessons, Gilli had found out about the destiny that rested on Merlin’s shoulders and vowed to help him in any way he could. Especially if it involved travelling. The druid camp was nice, but even after two months he’d started to feel restless and the lessons only helped so much. 

Though surprised, Merlin had accepted with all the graciousness of a true leader, and when he had next returned, he had given Gilli this ring and a mission: to be his eyes and ears in the wider world outside of Camelot. Which brought him back to sitting on this stump, a message in his mind and a stomach that was lacking food. 

“Gilli?” 

He turned, expecting to see Merlin but was instead faced with a man he had never seen before. One look at the deep colours of his tunic spoke of his higher status and Gilli had certainly never met anyone with hair that blonde. Although his sister’s hair came close if she ever bothered to wash it regularly.

He stood and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, making it clear that he could defend himself. “Who are you?” he demanded. “Why do you know my name?”

Curiously, the man only smiled wider. “Excellent! You don’t recognise me and you know of my magic. I mean, William said he didn’t recognise me either, but his eyes are old. Sometimes I think those glasses don’t help him enough.”

Gilli narrowed his eyes. There was really only one person this could be. “Merlin?”

“The one and only. How do I look?” He spread his arms out and twirled in a circle. 

“You look like a noble. Where did you find those clothes? From what you’ve told me, they don’t look like something your prince would wear.”

“Magic can do some amazing things.” Merlin laughed. 

Gilli shook his head. “That it can. Can you teach me?”

“Of course. Although first, why are you here?”

“Oh, right. Iseildur wanted me to ask you to visit the camp when you can. He has a proposition for you as well as some new things he thinks you’re ready to learn. He’s travelling to meet with another druid leader in a fortnight though, so before then would be preferred.”

“You were going to risk coming into the city just to tell me to visit the camp? What if someone had seen you?”

“Then I would have been seen.” Gilli shrugged. “It’s not like we have a better way of passing on a message.”

Gilli watched as Merlin frowned. No doubt his mind was already racing with ideas to set up a long distance messaging system that would be safe yet not clearly magical. Gilli had suggested using ravens once, but that idea had been shot down. He had an even better idea now though, one that had nothing to do with messaging.

“Well, come on, let’s get me a disguise!”


	7. Nighttime Nuisances - Part 1 and only

The thud of the library doors slamming against the stone walls woke Merlin and Sir William from their slumber. Heavy footsteps told Merlin it was another surprise search ordered by Uther, and he fell back on his bed with a groan. 

“What is it?” he heard William ask, very much upset at the disturbance. 

“Random search, sir,” one of the more polite knights answered. “Is your ward around? We need you both where we can see you while we search.”

Before his guardian could start to lie for him, Merlin called down that he was coming and swung his legs out of bed, landing harder than usual so the knights could hear. With a sigh, he pulled his magic tighter inside him and wrapped his threadbare blanket around him for good measure. He hoped it was not one of Uther’s more paranoid moods, not that he wasn’t always paranoid. But when he was in one of his moods the disks were used on the searches. Seeing as it was the middle of the night, they probably would be.

Standing next to William, they watched silently as the knights investigated the library yet again, waving about the disks to detect magic. Well, Merlin was silent. William was constantly reprimanding them to be careful with the ancient books. 

“Please be careful with that one. It’s a one of a kind gift from the kingdom of Venta and has been here for two hundred years. And that one, too. It’s a record of kings stretching back four hundred and twenty years.”

“Yes, I know the shelves over there cause the disks to glow green. They were reinforced with magic when they were first built so they can support the weight of the books. I told that to the last search–yes, the king knows about it.”

“For crying out loud, the glow is always brighter there, can’t you see the giant mirror? Of course magic made it. It’s a single pane of glass. No, it doesn’t do anything but reflect the face of the man who can’t remember that I explained this the last four times.”

What seemed like an hour later, Prince Arthur came into the room and asked for a quick report, making notes on his scroll before marching on without even a glance at Merlin. The report complete, the knights stopped their ransacking, not bothering to replace the books on the shelves.

William shouted at them on the way out. “Yes, please leave. And next time check your records for the anomalies of this room before you start trying to find harmful magic where there is none.”

The group of knights left, unperturbed by his harassment. They were trusted members of Uther’s court; nothing a retired knight could say would bother them. They were only interested in protecting the kingdom from the evils of magic. 

Merlin was glad they didn’t get around to checking his room this time. Everything was hidden away, of course, but it was the principle of it. “I can’t do this anymore!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

Sir William looked over at him with a raised brow. “What can’t you do?”

“Hiding all of those books in my chambers; waking up at stupid hours for searches; keeping herbs for potions under the floorboards of my room. Take your pick.” He began pacing between the bookshelves in the library. “I don’t know if Arthur’s noticed yet, but that wretched stone was brighter this time. We can’t keep explaining it away as residual magic of the castle architecture. My shields just can’t contain the magical auras. Not of the books in the secret rooms nor my own. Morgan said she could still sense mine when we were in the woods.”

“What if you moved the books to somewhere the guards would never search?” William suggested.

“Where? I didn’t think the library would be searched every time Uther had a fright, and yet, here we are.”

“I was thinking somewhere the guards don’t know exists. Somewhere underground.” 

Merlin grinned when he caught William’s drift. “I’ll go ask him,” he said as he leapt to his feet and ran out of the room. 

Merlin ran until he reached the clearing where Kilgharrah was already waiting for him. He explained his idea for an underground library in the abandoned cave and Kilgharrah thought it was an excellent idea. He helped Merlin to craft spells to sculpt a room out of the stone in the cave to store his growing collection of magic books. The room would be small and creating it needed to be far more controlled and precise than when he had carved out the underground cavern for the druids. It’d be perfect for becoming a small study of his own. 

Merlin worried at first that the natural dampness of the air in the cavern would damage the books. He knew William would be furious with him if the glue ran and ruined the pages. Kilgharrah reminded him that he could place a spell to control the humidity in the room. 

He even went one step further and gifted Merlin with a spell to modify the mirror in the library. Where Merlin had previously stepped through the large mirror to a small room beyond that his father had left for him, now a charm spoken before and a rune pressed on the border could change the destination. He had an instant portal to the cavern down below. Another rune on the stone wall below worked in reverse. 

The nature of the mirror still meant that only he could use it, but the modification was incredibly useful nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortest chapter yet, but this ties directly into a scene in [TV Magic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7114363) so it had to be written.


	8. Harbingers and Harvest - Part 1

Arthur looked at the bigger than usual breakfast laid out before him - three rolls - and then at Merlin straightening his bedsheets. “Alright, what do you want?”

“What do you mean?” Merlin didn’t turn around. “I haven’t asked for anything.”

“You never give me more than one roll unless you want something. I have three.”

“Fine. You’re right, I have a favor to ask.” Merlin left the bed and stood in front of Arthur. “I’d like some time off to visit Ealdor. It’s the end of the harvest and I want to make sure my mother’s well prepared for the winter. I haven’t seen her in over a year.”

“You can have the week off,” Arthur said immediately.

“I just can’t help but - wait, I can have a  _ week _ ?”

“Yes, I’m not a monster,” Arthur teased. “I’ve been to your village, remember? I know how hard it is. Tell your mother I wish her well.”

Merlin’s face lit up in a wide smile. “I will.”

“Just make sure you finish the polishing before you go and–” Arthur stood and pulled his chest of coins from beneath his bed. Merlin immediately started to protest, but Arthur didn’t listen. He pressed five gold coins into Merlin’s hand. “–take these to the treasurer and have him break it into smaller coins or whatever you think is best. Buy a warm blanket for her and use the rest for whatever you think will help. Give her any left over.”

“Arthur, I couldn’t possibly—”

“You can and you will. We both know I have more gold than I need. Now get going. If you leave soon, you can make it by nightfall.”

Merlin thanked him once again and hurried out of the room. 

Merlin had really only intended to ask for a day or two off to visit the druids, but with a full week, he really could visit his mother as well. He did need to give her that new shawl he bought. And if he cheated a little to finish the polishing while he packed his saddle bag, well, no one needed to know. 

It ended up being a quick visit. His mother was overjoyed when he rode into the village and, just as her son did, tried to refuse Arthur’s gift, but Merlin told her the prince had insisted. Unsurprisingly, she then said she would use it to help everyone in the village. 

He would have liked to stay longer, even if he missed his bed in Camelot, but when he told her that he was going to visit the druids at Iseildur’s request, she seemed to know something he did not. 

“Oh, so that’s what Iseildur meant in his letter,” she mused. 

“You write to each other?” This was news to Merlin. 

“Just because I’m happy in Ealdor doesn’t mean I don’t miss old friends. Besides, he keeps me updated on you since my son seems incapable of writing a letter,” she teased, hands on her hips. 

“I write you letters!” Hunith said nothing. “I suppose I could write more often. So you know why he wanted me to visit during the full moon?”

“I have a very good idea, but I’ll let him explain it to you.”

Despite not originally intending on visiting his mother, Merlin was delaying his departure. It was rare that he was able to spend time with her. Yet Hunith refused to let Merlin stay past three days and shooed him out of the house on the fourth. She insisted that he arrive in Iseildur’s camp the night before the moon was full.

As always, he hated leaving her, but he did want to visit the druids. He glanced over his shoulder once to see her standing in the road, watching him leave, new shawl wrapped around her, and he knew that would be the image he would keep with him on the road. 

It had been dark for a few hours when Merlin arrived at the druid camp, the light of the moon helping to guide his horse along the forest paths. Gilli and one of the druids met him just beyond the edge of the camp. They must have sensed his approach. 

They offered to lead him to one of the finer rooms down below, but he refused, saying he prefered to spend the night above ground. At least for tonight, he wanted to see the trees overhead as he slept. He cast a simple tent charm to protect him from any unexpected rain, but kept his vision clear to watch the stars. Gilli slept outside as well, still not feeling totally comfortable among the druids. They didn’t say much, they only watched the trees and the stars and, before long, the inside of their eyelids. 

He awoke with the sun, feeling better rested than he had in ages. It was always like this when he stayed with the druids. His magic was not bound; it could freely wander through the camp while he slept and dance with other magic in kinship beyond anything mortals could comprehend. Upon rising, he felt it dance back to his body and twirl around him with joy. 

With this renewed energy, he decided to descend below to help with meal preparations. Or he would’ve if Iseildur hadn’t found him first. He held out a small plate of food and told Merlin to walk with him. 

“You slept well?” he asked. 

“Wonderfully. It’s always so peaceful here.”

“And you had a good visit with your mother?”

Merlin shook his head. The speed of gossip here was incredible. “Yes. I didn’t realise you two know each other.”

Iseildur let out a small laugh. “She asked me to teach her to read when she set her sights on your father. Two weeks later, Balinor asked me to teach him a spell to grow flowers to give to her.”

Merlin couldn’t believe his luck. He now had someone who had known both of his parents and could tell him all about their lives without shying away from the secret of magic. He opened his mouth to ask about, well, he hadn’t quite decided what yet, but Iseildur quickly steered the conversation away.

“Did Hunith tell you why you are here?”

“No.” Merlin took another bite of breakfast, recognising that questions about his parents would have to wait.

Iseildur hummed. “Did Ealdor have a harvest festival of any kind?”

“Not really.” Merlin finished chewing. “Small offerings were left outside the first night and often the village had a meal together in the meeting hall the last night, but that’s it. Everyone was busy preparing for the cold. Why? Also, this bread is amazing.”

Iseildur smiled. “I’ll tell our bakers that you enjoyed it. I’ve asked you to come here to experience our harvest festival. You may be called upon to lead it next year.”

Merlin spluttered in surprise. “ _ Me _ ? No, I couldn’t. I know I’m apparently this extra powerful warlock, but that’s no reason for me to lead your festivals.”

“There’s still much you don’t yet know about being Emrys. I suggest you ask your guardian to tell you some of what he’s been holding back in regards to your destiny. Or even ask some of the people in the camp before the festival starts. Your mother was wise to send you to us before the festival so that you have some time to learn.” 

Merlin grumbled but heeded his advice and spent the next day and a half relaxing and learning. Well, relaxing as much as he could. He was so used to moving that he just couldn’t sit still for very long. Instead he tried to visit everyone in the camp. He was able to see some of the druids and other refugees he had helped out of Camelot. They were well settled in and very grateful for his help. 

The children were a delight as always, and many of them had been waiting for him to visit so they could show him new things they had learned. Toby could now summon small objects from across the camp, Isabelle was able to levitate things too heavy for her to carry on her own, and Aethal could sense the underground river network. Merlin knew nothing about their lesson plans or how long it had taken them to master those skills, but he was filled with pride nonetheless. And though a couple of them were nearly old enough to be adults, they still begged him to create creatures out of his magic and to tell them a new story.

For Merlin, one of the most delightful conversations he had was with Alastair, the schoolteacher. 

“It doesn’t take a empath to know that you have many questions, Emrys,” he greeted when Merlin rapped on his doorframe. “Come. Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Merlin sat cross legged on the dirt floor despite the chair and table. He pulled out a folded sheet of notes. He’d been keeping a list for a while, he just had to decide which to start with. Probably the newest addition. “Iseildur says that I might lead the harvest festival next year, but I don’t see why. He hinted that it has something to do with me being Emrys, but I don’t understand. I thought my destiny as Emrys was just protecting Arthur and bringing about a golden age of magic?”

Alastair smiled kindly. “That is a large part, yes, but that is not all of who you are. Just as your prince is called to unite the kingdoms of Albion, there is an old role among the druids that waits for you.”

Merlin tilted his head to the side, listening intently. 

“In the old days of peace, druid camps from all over, far beyond the borders of Albion, were united not just in faith and in way of life but by one central leader. This role was primarily ceremonial, true, but the leader was still a voice of wisdom who could be trusted to look out for the good of all, not just to protect a single clan and their people. They were the great mediator between clans when arguments arose about lands and differences in rituals.” Alastair laughed with a harsh breath. “Sometimes our people forget that we are an amalgamation of similar cultures and not everything is universal. The same religion unites us, but how we celebrate and honour our gods can vary and still be equally valid.”

Merlin’s brain froze. Iseildur’s tribe was large, already too many people for him to even consider leading. That would mean making decisions and being responsible for people’s safety. And Alastair said this wasn’t just a leader of one camp. It was all of them. Merlin vaguely remembered Iseildur’s history lesson from last autumn. There were something like twenty tribes in Albion and a couple more beyond. There was no way Merlin was cut out for that. Alastair must be mistaken. “And you think I’m to be this leader?”

“I do. All of us in this camp would support you.”

Sard it. So much for hoping that this was a misguided joke. Not that Alastair was the joking type. Not about education. 

“You’ve already demonstrated a willingness to help those outside your family, and in the future, you’ll be in a position to watch over many different clans. Maybe it’s a long way off, but already you’re learning more of our culture.”

Merlin thought about that. Watching over was different than leading. It seemed right somehow. Not a king, like Arthur would be, but more of an advisor role. Someone to confide in and ask for advice. Not too different from who he was to Arthur now. 

But like Alastair said, that was a long ways off. He had more immediate questions. “How did the leader communicate with the druids across such great distances? I’m trying to figure out something so Gilli won’t need to sneak into Camelot every time Iseildur wants to speak with me.”

“I’m afraid that was known only to the leaders of each clan. I’d ask Iseildur about that. But you had other questions?” He gestured to Merlin’s notes. 

“Yes.” He quickly scanned the page. “Disguises. I was working on some for myself, but I tried to teach Gilli and it wasn’t going well. I was wondering if there’s a way I could lend him the power, or the skills, or something so that he can create a disguise to protect himself if I’m not at his side.”

“I think what you want to read up on are vessels. We sometimes use them for teaching the children how to control a spell if they don’t have enough power yet.” He walked over to a shelf and grabbed a small polished rock. “Hold this one. See if you can figure out the spell contained within.”

Merlin took the rock and turned it over in his hands. Almost immediately, he could sense that it came from a riverbed. He closed his eyes in concentration and reached out with his magic. There was something in the feel of the spell that was aquatic in nature. It wasn’t complex, but it was strong. He probed deeper. 

He could sense a summoning charm, though it wasn’t directed at anything specific. 

“Summoning something? Something watery?” he guessed. 

“Close.”

“Something to help with fishing?” he guessed again. 

Alastair shook his head. “No, that’s too advanced for this purpose. I know you know the equivalent spell with fire.  _ Forbearne _ . This one is  _ nascor.  _ It summons water to your hand. From there you shape it how you wish.”

Merlin held out his hand and repeated the spell. A sphere of water hovered above his palm. With an idle thought, the water shifted to a dragon soaring through the air and then a large fish that leapt toward the floor and splashed apart, leaving the ground dry. 

Alastair smiled at the trick. “Obviously you do not need the spell in the stone to guide your magic, but those with little experience are able to concentrate on connecting with their power while the stone focuses that power. This also helps the children learn to recognise the different elemental bases.”

“That’s water, earth, fire, and air, right?” Merlin asked as he handed back the stone. 

“Yes. I always forget you have not had formal training,” Alastair responded. “We used to have a tool to help the children learn. It would light up in different colours for each elemental base. We would give one to a child to hold on to for a week while they did their normal training and they would report back with what colours it was most often. This would help us personalise their further schooling. When a person is older, the colour is in their aura, but that’s not usually strong enough until much later in life.”

“These devices, what do they look like?”

“It was circular, with a gemstone in the centre. That’s the part that would change colour. There were runes along the metal band that controlled the colour settings.”

Those blasted disks had a use after all. And they were childproof, which explained why he couldn’t easily destroy them. “Hmm. That does sound useful. Well, onto the next question.”

It was a few more hours before Merlin finally left Alastair’s home, full of new knowledge and plenty of ideas for projects to begin. He hoped Lancelot would agree to help with the testing of disguise spells. If this worked as he predicted, the user might not even need to have magic to use what he would create. 

He was walking back to the underground room he was staying in when a hand reached out and grabbed his sleeve. Merlin stopped and turned, hands already partway raised to fend off an attack, but he lowered them when he saw who it was. 

“Emrys. There is something you must hear.” It was the tribe’s wise woman. Merlin didn’t know the old woman well, but he knew she was respected just as much as Iseildur. 

“What is it, Mistress Sibylline?” he asked, laying a hand on her arm.

She ushered him inside her small room. A low fire burned in the dirt. “The trees have ears, Emrys. They tell me many things. They tell of a man in the north gathering sorcerers to him. The clans in the north have sent no messages.”

Merlin looked into her eyes. There was a slight sparkle of gold as she said this. “Are you saying there may be a threat?” Perhaps not a prophecy, but a warning sent from The Goddess was equally worrying.

“I am telling you to beware of a cold wind from the north. I fear he works contrary to you. Be careful, Emrys.”

Merlin nodded in gratitude. “Thank you for the warning. Don’t hesitate to send word if you learn more. I’ll keep my eyes open.”


	9. Harbingers and Harvest - Part 2

On the day of the festival, Merlin spent the morning with Iseildur. Most of the camp had already left to prepare for the festival and so the place was quieter than usual. Before they left, Iseildur showed him the communication method of old. It was a clay tablet, and when written upon with an enchanted stylus, the words showed up on a paired tablet. 

“And was there a way to send a message to more than one of these tablets?” Merlin asked as they walked to the wooden circle, where the festival would be held. 

“We never used it that way, at least in my memory,” Iseildur said. “I don’t see why the spell couldn’t be modified though.”

“You know how to modify it then?” Merlin asked eagerly. 

“I don’t know, but I have no doubt that you could figure it out. You continue to astound us all with your skills, Emrys. If anyone could do it, it would be you.”

Merlin looked down at his feet while he walked. He wasn’t very good at accepting compliments. Especially from someone he looked up to like Iseildur. 

“You said you were looking to use these for the Golden Ivy?”

“It’s not called that,” Merlin huffed. But when he looked up he saw that Iseildur’s mouth was turned up in a small smile. Merlin narrowed his eyes. 

“Gilli mentioned that you were not fond of the name. Can’t see why. Great name.”

“It just seems so, noble. I don’t even know who came up with it.”

Iseildur was suspiciously quiet. 

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Merlin shook his head. For someone who had experimented with various disguises, he should know better than to judge on appearances. Iseildur might be nearly as old as William, but he still had a sharp sense of humour. “I should’ve known.”

Iseildur laughed quietly but returned to business, “I would look into other materials though. Clay tablets are going to be more difficult to hide.”

“I was thinking parchment. Looks more innocuous. Would still need an enchanted quill though. Something that wouldn’t get confused with the others.” Merlin rambled his half formed plan, waving his arms as he spoke. “I thought about maybe making it a different colour but only nobles can afford something like that and it would definitely stolen. Not to mention it would be really obvious.”

“What about using a Merlin feather?” Iseildur proposed with a totally straight face. 

“I don’t have any - oh. Seriously?”

“It’s not uncommon for their feathers to be used as quills, and yet I don’t believe anyone in the network would forget which of their quills, if they even have more than one, was the enchanted one.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “I’ll consider it.” He changed the topic. “First, I need to figure out how to extend the spell to more than one tablet. It seems like a waste of time if I need to send a message to everyone and need to write it five different times.”

They discussed a few more ideas but without having a tablet with them to examine the spells that made it work, the conversation died out. The sound of birds and small forest animals took over. Merlin found himself trying to tread softly like Iseildur, who hardly disturbed the forest floor. But despite growing up near a forest himself, he still managed to snap every third twig. 

As they walked, Merlin's mind wandered. If his network has these communication devices, maybe he could delegate better to others in the network. He wouldn’t always be able leave Camelot when someone needed him, but perhaps he could easily get a message to wherever Gilli was. He wasn’t always in Iseildur’s camp like he was now. 

Merlin was actually looking forward to talking with the other druids in his age group; they saw him as a person. Unlike the other druids, who continued to look upon him like a saviour. Which he most certainly was not.

“I don’t understand how I’m meant to have some great destiny when I can’t get anything right,” he confided. “I wasn’t raised with druids, the children know more about magic than I do, and I haven’t changed anyone’s mind about the laws in Camelot. I feel like I’m failing.”

“You aren’t failing,” Iseildur was quick to reassure him. “There are many people in our camp who would be dead without your help.”

“But the people of Camelot thought they died. Silently, without protest,” Merlin interrupted. “What kind of message does that send? How am I supposed to be a hero to the druids if I silence their protests?”

“No hero is born overnight. All leaders must fail in order to learn. And every large oak tree standing tall in the sunlight first had to fight its way out of the shade of the underbrush.”

Merlin thought about that while Iseildur continued.

“You have learned so much since you first came to Camelot. You stumbled upon our camp not knowing any spells, not knowing any runes, not knowing any history of your people. You are now conversant in the Old Language and you understand some of the history of Albion. And you are on your way to learn more.”

He felt a little better now. Enough to pull him out of the helpless thoughts, even if he still didn’t feel proud of his accomplishments the way Iseildur seemed to be proud of him. Sure, he was learning the language, and he knew more now than he had three years ago, but what difference did that make? The laws in Camelot remained. Uther still sent out patrols to purge the countryside of sorcerers. “It still doesn’t feel like I have done enough to help others.”

“Merlin.” Iseildur must be very serious if he was calling Merlin by his birth name. “You’ve done more than we asked. It was enough to know that you had been born and would someday free us, but you have made the effort to help us feel like we have a home again, something more than tents with half packed belongings, always ready to flee. You have risked your own position in Camelot to help others. And since you’ve arrived, people are beginning to see a bright future ahead when Arthur takes the crown.” He paused. “You’ve made great strides so far; maybe Arthur will be ready to attend the harvest festival next year.”

“What? No! Not that soon,” Merlin protested. “I know he’s grown, but - oh. You were joking.”

Iseildur smiled. “I am not always so serious. Besides, I wouldn’t want your pouting to ruin the festive mood.” He gestured for Merlin to precede him through the small path between two large boulders.

Merlin rolled his eyes, but he refrained from saying more, curious instead about where they were. When Iseildur had first told him of the sacred location that the druids would be travelling to for the festival, Merlin had been confused. After all, why did they need to leave the safety of the cave to hold a festival? 

But now he saw what he hadn’t smelled earlier because of the wind: an enormous bonfire in the centre of a ring of fifty stumps. There was no way that could work underground without smoking them all out. 

There were other things in the clearing as well. A couple of smaller fires with men cooking and children bobbing for apples in the big washbasin. Merlin had a suspicion that the apples would soon be forgotten in favour of having a water fight. 

“We’ve missed the official beginning and the lighting of the bonfire, but as the guest of honour, the next part requires your participation.”

“Guest of honour?” Merlin asked as he followed Iseildur along a white stone lined path. “What does that entail?”

“Not much. You mostly stand there while the women talk at you.”

Merlin thought that didn’t sound too bad. 

At the end of the path, a small waterfall emerged from between two rocks and formed a shallow pool. Around the pool, the women of the tribe, and some of the men, had gathered to wait for the short ceremony to begin. Barefoot in the pool stood three women, one of each generation. 

Mistress Sibylline naturally represented the elder generation. Iseildur had also said that she was the leader of the festival this year. Merlin would be watching her to see what she did just in case Iseildur really did follow through on his threat to make him lead next year. 

Linda represented the generation that Hunith was in. He wondered if his mother knew her; Merlin certainly didn’t know anything about her beyond her name and that she was Gale’s mother. 

Elizabeth was the youngest, although she was still a little older than Merlin. She held a small circle of wheat and flowers. It was faint at first, but Merlin noticed a melodic humming coming from the women gathered in the grass around them. Iseildur gave Merlin a little nudge forward, and he stumbled forward to stand at the edge of the pool.

The humming fell into a single chord, steady and soft. Mistress Sibylline spoke first. “Our harvest is complete, and the past is behind us.” The humming crescendoed and decrescendoed.

“From our labour and from our fields, we have bound a ring of prosperity,” Linda added. The humming swelled again in the same way.

Elizabeth lifted the wheat circle above her head. “And now we look to the future and wish you prosperity with us,” she concluded, lowering the crown onto Merlin’s head after whispering to him to bend down. She was shorter than him despite being older. 

The humming stopped as the women chanted in unison, “For the tribe, for the forest, for the magic of the earth. Prosperity to all. From the Mother, from the Crone, from the Maiden. Blessings from all.”

Merlin waited, not sure if he was suppose to be doing anything and afraid of interrupting the ritual. But after a moment, the women dispersed, chatting with each other about mundane things. 

“That’s all there is to this part of the festival,” Elizabeth explained when she noticed his confusion. She had already spoken a charm to dry her feet and had put her sandals back on. “Just something small to honour our important guest.”

Merlin reached up and lightly touched his new headpiece. “I feel honoured. Thank you.”

“Come, let me tell you more about the festival,” Iseildur said, leading Merlin away.

Iseildur gave Merlin the basic schedule for the rest of the day. There weren’t many formal activities until dinner. Although the festival included only members of Iseildur’s tribe, not everyone lived at the camp year round. Sometimes extended family from other tribes came back to their birth tribe for the festival so it was a time of visiting with friends. 

Merlin spent the time before dinner catching up with Gilli and some of the other druids who were close to his age. Gale told Merlin of his adventure to the coast and how he learned to sail. Aislin laughed and clarified that he had spent most of the time falling out of the boat. 

“It’s not my fault the boats are so unsteady,” he retorted. 

“They are perfectly steady if you sit still and stop trying to look at the different fish.” She shook her head. “Honestly, the last time he fell out, I just left him there to swim back to shore on his own.”

A rapid beating on a drum broke through all their giggles. 

“Food time!” Gilli yelled and broke into a run, Aislin immediately giving chase. The rest of the small group walked sedately over to the bonfire. 

One of the druids who lived outside the camp and raised animals had brought a lamb to be sacrificed for their feast. It had been roasting all day and smelled delicious. They were each served a portion of lamb, some rice, and a thick slice of a bread that had been made earlier that day. Merlin followed the example of the others and cut up his lamb before choosing a portion to be tossed into the fire for a sacrifice to the Triple Goddess.  He said a short prayer in his mind before following Gilli to a grassy spot around a large stump. 

Gilli waved to their other friends and soon they had a small circle on the grass with Gale, Aislin, Drea, and Amica. With them, he was really able to relax. No talk of destiny, no talk of Camelot, lots of talk of magic. Gilli was showing off his illusion skills by changing his nose into different shapes, including a pig snout, and the conversation turned to the dilema Merlin was having with disguises. 

“I was talking with Alastair this morning and he was showing me a stone that had a spell inside it,” Merlin said. “I was thinking maybe I could place a full disguise spell inside a stone, but I worry that it might be lost. I know I’d forget it on a wall or something and there goes the disguise. I also don’t know how to do it.”

“Those are vessel spells,” Drea said. “I was learning about those last week. Alastair said you have to concentrate on the words of the spell but without thinking of the purpose behind the spell.”

“And you can do that with any spell?” Merlin asked. 

“In theory.” Drea looked around and picked up a stick. “Here, I can put a spell to lift a plate inside this.” She held the stick tight in her hands and concentrated. Her lips turned down in a frown, her forehead wrinkling beneath her bangs. 

Merlin really thought it would work.

So when the stick snapped in two with a loud pop and flew from her hands, he couldn’t help his yelp of surprise. Hissing and shaking her hands, Drea watched as the pieces of the stick flew into a small cooking fire not far away and threw up a shower of blue sparks. 

Gilli and Aislin immediately dissolved into giggles. The others followed. Thankfully, no one spat out their water. 

“Okay, so I’m still learning,” Drea said.

“You used a pine branch,” Amica said, trying to stop her laughter. “Pine is notoriously bad for holding magic.”

“You couldn’t have mentioned that before I started?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Merlin interrupted what would likely be a long bickering session. “Wait, different trees are better for magic?”

“Yeah, pine and maple have too much sap,” Amica explained. “Rowan wood is the best, but it’s rare. Cedar is fairly common.”

“Metals are better though,” Aislin chimed in. “More expensive, but they’re sturdier. Something about being a more ordered internal structure.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Something metal, Merlin thought. That could work. Metal was easier to explain away as jewelry. Though if he needed to add runes to it, maybe it should be something that could be hidden easily. Like a necklace that could be tucked into a shirt. 

Actually, Gwaine had a necklace already with a strange metal shape and a ring. No one questioned that. Maybe this would work. “Can you still work with the metal after you put the spell in? Can you lay other spells on top of it?” he asked. 

Aislin rolled her eyes. “Of course you’re already thinking of making it more complicated, Merlin.” 

Merlin just shrugged and took another bite of bread.

“Alastair hasn’t said anything about metal working after the fact,” Drea said. “I would suggest getting the metal into the shape you want first, though, just in case.”

“No, they need multiple spells.” Gilli asked. “Because I’m gonna need some fancy clothes if I’m pretending to be a fancy noble.”

That sparked more laughter as Gilli sat up extra straight, chin held high and pretended to look down on all of them with a sniff. Merlin just shook his head and ate more of his bread. It was really good. Except, he bit down on something solid. He picked it out with his fingers. It was a weird looking nut. Not wanting to insult the food, he tried to slyly set it on the ground next to him.

“Did you find something in your bread?” Drea asked.

“Oh yeah, just some nut.” Merlin tried to brush it off. “Must have fallen in while cooking.”

“No, you’re lucky if you find something in your harvest bread,” Gale corrected him. “What did you find?”

“A nut but not one I’m familiar with.” He held it out to the others. 

Gale immediately recognised it. “That’s an olive tree seed. Someone must have been travelling far this year; I hear they only grow in Radnor’s kingdom. It means you’ll have a good year for friendship and forging new bonds with people. You should plant it when you get back.”

“I will.” He knew the perfect place.

After dinner, everyone helped with the clean up while singing songs to make the work more fun. Merlin was delighted to join in the choruses, picking up the repetitive words quickly. The youngest children helped in the clean up by leaving food out in the forest as offerings for the woodland spirits. When they finished that, they ran off to make more flower crowns.  

When the cleaning was done, Mistress Sibylline called for story time. Merlin listened as eagerly as any of the children while the adults traded off telling stories. Some were familiar tales his own mother had told him; others were new and thrilling. He was particularly intrigued by the tale of the prideful lord who wanted to build his castle on a swamp, only to be told two dragons were battling beneath it. He wondered if there was an element of truth in the tale.

When the glow of the sunset faded and the torches encircling the clearing were the main source of light, Iseildur ended storytime with a story that everyone seemed to know. The children frequently interrupted with their favourite lines, and Merlin could see a pair of friends mouthing along to different characters and making each other giggle with over the top facial expressions. 

If Merlin remembered right what Iseildur had told him, there were only two more elements to the festival. The dancing and the honouring of the dead. The dancing would last throughout the night and Iseildur had told him to enjoy himself and really have fun. He had a full day to sleep before he would have to work for Arthur again so he could really go all out. First came the honouring though.

Mistress Sybilline led the ceremony. Everyone gathered around the fire that was significantly calmer than it was before. Merlin was actually able to see the quiet, solemn faces of the people standing on the other side of the flames now. Everyone was quiet, waiting for her to speak. 

“We have gathered here today in celebration of a good harvest and to ask benediction for the cold months of winter. And as the year draws to a close, we also pause to remember those we have lost this year.” She paused for a moment of silence. “We know that those whose souls have left their body have not truly left us so long as we remember them. We remember them now.”

She paused again, waiting. Together, everyone held their right hand, palm up, in front of them. Some looked thoughtful; some had tears dripping down their cheeks. As each felt ready, they spoke a word to form a flame in their palm. There were flames of every variety, every colour, every shape. 

Merlin thought of who he had lost this past year. 

It had been around this time of year when he had gotten word that his father, Balinor, had passed away. He had felt it first, of course; deep inside of him, he had felt the burden of being the last dragonlord sink into his soul. But a letter from one of his father’s friends had reached him two days later to tell Merlin that he’d passed away peacefully. 

And only a few months ago, he had lost the love of his life, Freya. He had only known her for a few days, but it had been enough. He had tried to sneak her out of Camelot like he had many others, but nothing had gone according to plan. It hadn’t helped that she’d kept trying to push him away either. By the time he had finally found out the truth she had been trying to hide, it had been too late. All she wanted was to live by a lake, beneath some mountains, and own a few cows. Arthur had wounded her, but Merlin had carried her to the edge of the lake and sat with her until she faded. Still, a part of his heart felt connected to that lake. 

With tears welling in his eyes, he summoned a scarlet flame to his palm in the shape of a strawberry.

“We give these remembrances to those beyond the veil. We are parted in body, but never in spirit. Receive our gift of love.”

The druids tossed their small flames into the fire, and Merlin followed suit. The colours swirled around, and he watched as sparks danced their way up into the heavens. He felt Gilli grab his left hand and Merlin reached out to link his right hand with Aislin’s left. The chain of linked hands continued around the circle. Everyone connected like this, he felt the burden of their sorrow lift ever so slightly. It felt good to remember those no longer in the land of the living and the sharing of grief helped soothe the wounds, helping to heal.

Closing his eyes, Merlin reached out with his senses and immediately felt deeply connected to the world around him. Everything felt alive and sacred. He could feel the emotions of the druids rolling off in waves and being given over to the skies. He could even feel the slight pull of the full moon rising over his right shoulder. 

In the stillness, someone stomped their foot down hard. Merlin felt the shift in the air. Thomas was leading them into the next phase. 

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. The other boys joined in, slamming their boots down on the earth, and the volume grew as more joined in the beat. Thomas raised his voice in song, and the dancing began. 


	10. The Two Tiered Tournament - Part 1

Merlin had danced all night, staying awake till sunrise with the other druids who had the energy to do so. It had been a long walk back to the cave in the morning, but he’d been beyond grateful for the lack of sun reaching the room in the cave he was sleeping in. Although with how tired he’d been, he probably would have slept through midday sun with the knights training right next to him. It was a good thing he’d had a day of rest before he needed to return to Camelot. 

Thankfully, he had rested enough, because Arthur had not been shy in heaping chores upon him when he returned. In a few days, Camelot was to hold its own celebration of a good harvest, this one in the form of an open tournament. 

Traditionally, only knights were able to compete in the tournaments. There were two exceptions: the Decennial Tournament–a tournament held every ten years with no rules‒and the Harvest Tournament. Although perhaps it would be more accurate to say tournaments, plural. There was the normal tournament for knights and also a lower circuit that was open to anyone. 

Typically the lower circuit competition was made up of guards, although sometimes an odd commoner or fifth son of a fifth son from another kingdom would compete. Winning the lower circuit tournament would result in knighthood. It was an honour fought for fiercely. A guard would otherwise have to save the king’s life to be awarded a knighthood.

Because this was a festival, the tournament ran on a points basis, allowing everyone to compete in the different competitions rather than half the competitors being eliminated in the first round. There were a few rounds of traditional sparring, but successive levels started limiting weapons. With each competitor competing every day in multiple events, it was a lot of work for the servants. 

However, this year, Merlin would have less work to do since Arthur wouldn’t be competing in the tournament. His father wanted him to host it this year; a duty Arthur was not happy with. “It’s going to be so boring,” Arthur complained. “I have to sit on the dais and watch people do all the fun fighting. Do you have any idea how dull it is to watch when you can’t partake? The whole point of a tournament is to fight!”

Merlin ignored him.

“I’ve been competing every year since I was ten and my instructors decided I was skilled enough to make it through the first round.” Arthur smiled at the memory. “Looking back, they may have just agreed to stop my pestering. I certainly came nowhere near winning. And now I have to sit and watch again.”

“Don’t forget you have to give a speech as well,” Merlin said.

Arthur groaned and dropped his head to the table.

“I’ve already written it for you. It’s on your desk when you’re ready to face your responsibilities.” Merlin pretended not to hear the muffled denials of ever being ready. “I’ve got things to do in town before the evening rush. I’ll send someone to clear away your supper.”

Arthur merely flapped a hand in dismissal.

As Merlin was walking out of the blacksmith’s shop, he heard an unexpected voice call his name. He turned in surprise. “Gwaine?” he whispered harshly, marching over to yank the idiot into the shadows. “What are you doing here? We both know Uther banished you.”

“As if he’s going to find out,” Gwaine replied with a scoff. “I could march into the throne room and the old fool probably wouldn’t remember my face.”

“But Arthur would.”

“He wouldn’t tell. You heard him; he tried to get me to stay.”

Merlin shook his head. He knew it was no use. “Why are you here? Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? No.” Gwaine flipped his hair. “But I can’t resist a good tournament, and Camelot has some of the best. Besides, an important part of armor is the visor.” Gwaine smiled wildly as Merlin shook his head some more.

“Do you have somewhere to stay?”

“I was hoping you could help with that.”

Merlin thought for a moment. Gwaine couldn’t stay in the library again. It would be best to keep him out of a tavern. The cave was too obviously magical, and he still wasn’t sure what Gwaine had figured out for himself. “It won’t be perfect, but I know a place.”

“So long as I can lay out a bedroll on a flat surface, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

When Merlin showed him the abandoned house on the edge of town that served as a shelter for refugees, Gwaine looked like he might rescind that statement. But true to his word, he tossed his pack onto the straw mattress and threw himself after it. Feet propped up on the wall, arms behind his head, he grinned at Merlin.

“I’m not expecting people,” Merlin said as he checked the supplies in the cabinets, “but if anyone comes in, show them the ring I gave you and they’ll trust you. Of course if they don’t know what it means, then it’s up to you and your acting skills.”

“Say, is our friend Lancelot competing?” Gwaine asked.

Merlin chuckled. “He convinced a friend of his to come to Camelot to compete in the lower circuit, and his friend agreed to compete only if Lancelot did as well. I’ve been avoiding his whining all week. It’s nearly as bad as Arthur’s. I can’t wait to meet this Percival to tell him what a terrible deal this was.”

Despite all of his dread, Arthur was actually enjoying himself. With Merlin standing beside his chair, they kept a running commentary on the matches. After two years of being his servant, Merlin knew enough terminology to not get lost. Arthur was able to evaluate his knights outside of a training environment, and Merlin provided commentary on the matches and the friendly banter that might be happening on the field between knights:

“This is for that sweet roll you stole from me yesterday. Yeah? Well, this is for pushing me into the river on our last patrol!”

Or hypothetical thoughts in the minds of the guards that he knew:

“I wonder what Amara’s doing right now? Is she watching me fight? Does she like my legs?” or even, “Block, counter, strike. Block, counter, strike. This should be a dance. Block, counter, strike.” 

As ridiculous as it was, Arthur admitted that he would have a hard time watching Sir Stephen fight from now on without picturing him trying to dance with a tree.

One knight in particular caught Arthur’s eye. “Merlin, who’s the knight with the green horse on their crest?”

“I think it was a Grem-something. Why? Do you want me to check the registry?” Arthur nodded and Merlin hurried off. When he returned, he held the list in his hand. “Sir Gresham Pelinore, from High Cliffe. Fifth son of Lord Yoriac,” he read off. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ve never seen his crest before. I’m assuming he doesn’t serve in the capitol.”

“Correct.”

Arthur rubbed his forehead. “It must be that. Thank you, Merlin.”

But now Merlin was suspicious. Arthur had a point. He had never heard of this knight before. For that matter, he hadn’t heard of the estate. He asked Sir William about it over dinner. 

“That estate was raided and burned down in a terrible fire many years ago. No one from the family survived. Why do you ask?”

“Do you know how many sons the lord had?” Merlin asked instead.

“The genealogy book would have record of it. No, check after you finish eating. I will not have you getting food on my books. Why the questions anyway?”

“Something Arthur noticed at the tournament. Apparently there was a fifth son who survived the fire and lived to become a knight.” Merlin stuffed the last piece of roll into his mouth. “But if that’s wrong....”

“Then there’s an imposter,” William finished. “I would beg you to be careful, Merlin.”

“When am I not?” he replied with a cheeky grin.


	11. The Two Tiered Tournament - Part 2

“Rise and shine!” Merlin yelled the next morning. “The High Cliffe knight is not who he says he is!”

Arthur rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. “Too early to get up. Bed’s so warm. Wait.” He turned his head toward Merlin’s voice and cracked open one eye. “What’d you say about the knight?”

“I looked in the genealogy book and Lord Yoriac only had three sons and one daughter. No fifth son at all.” Merlin stoked up the embers of the fire. It wouldn’t need to last all day, but Arthur liked it warmer in the morning to chase off the chill of the autumn nights. 

“So he’s not who he says he is.” Arthur rose from his bed and walked behind the changing screen. “He was a good fighter; he made it through the first day. But if he’s an imposter, he must have some other purpose for being here.”

“And I doubt it’s to make friends,” Merlin muttered.

“I can keep an eye on him while he fights, but I need someone else to watch him when he’s not on the sand.” Arthur stepped out from behind the screen, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Merlin, can I trust you to do that?”

He sighed. Sure, he loved chasing after possible enemies of Camelot. Just a typical day in the city. He hid the sarcasm as he replied, “You can trust me to keep an eye on him. He won’t even notice me. Now, trust me to straighten out your clothes. You’ve done the laces up wrong again. You know they get caught in your mail when you tie it like that.”

After fixing the shirt and leaving Arthur with his breakfast, Merlin returned to the library. There was a spell he’d wanted to try out for years: invisibility. And here Arthur was, asking him to spy on a competitor in the tournament. Invisibility would be his best bet. 

Or so he thought. Standing in front of the mirror, William looking over his shoulder, he knew he would have to resort to the old way. Sure, he couldn’t see himself, but he could see a distorted reflection of William and the candlelight of the room shifting over the surface of his body with every movement. 

There was no way walking around as a human shaped mirror would work. Perhaps if he was still, but even then, the distorted reflection passerby would see on his curved body would only spell trouble. As far as he could tell, it would only be useful if he was hiding underwater in a clear pond. 

Defeated, he dismissed the spell and instead glanced at the wording of his illusions spell again. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to rely on it, but sometimes just the slightest hint of someone walking around a corner could draw off a pursuer. 

While Merlin stealthily followed the imposter, Arthur watched more of the battles. Although yesterday’s rounds were open to any weapon, today’s were limited to broadswords, plain and simple. 

In the lower court, Arthur was pleased with the skill many of the guards showed. The captain was doing exceptionally well; perhaps he would earn a special promotion to knight of the realm. But there were still many elimination rounds and there were at least two others doing just as well as he was. 

Arthur had his eyes on two fighters; unable to see faces beneath the helmets, he referred to them as short man and tall man. The former seemed intimately familiar with the sword but wasn’t practiced in using it in actual combat. Everything was textbook precision but limited adaptability. The latter was less skilled but used his entire body to his advantage. Big and slow was not as apt as Arthur had initially assumed. 

Still, it was in the knightly tournament that his real focus remained. The imposter was doing well, almost too well. He got in a scratch on Gerod who then seemed to flag until he surrendered. Another knight bearing the crest of Lorraine was advancing steadily. There was something familiar about his fighting style, but Arthur didn’t know anyone from that house. It was far to the south and travel between the kingdoms was rare. 

The tournament was nearly concluded when Merlin appeared next to him. “Arthur.”

“Merlin! What are you doing here? I asked you to keep an eye on the imposter.” He looked to see Merlin’s serious face. His eyes, however, hinted at success. “You found something.”

“Indeed I have. Has the man advanced through to tomorrow?” Merlin asked. 

“Yes. Although I wonder if he’s not using trickery to do so.”

“Then hold a small private dinner tonight. For the fighters who have impressed you.”

“How will that help?” Arthur interrupted. “He’s probably trying to kill me or my father. That would only give him a better chance.”

“Let me finish,” Merlin reprimanded. “Don’t invite any others. Only your trusted knights. He will come relaxed, we will come prepared.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at Merlin before turning to look back at the fight. Sir Bors had just bested Sir Lancelot. Both were on the ground but only one had a sword to his neck. They helped each other to their feet and bowed to the crowd. “That’s not a bad idea. I’ll let you inform the servants and prepare things.”

“Of course, sire,” he said, giving a small bow then hurrying off. He had a lot of planning to do. Maybe he could get Gwaine to help him. On second thought, Gwaine should never be allowed in the kitchens. Lancelot then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! More than two parts for this arc. It was a short chapter, but there was a natural chapter break.


	12. The Two Tiered Tournament - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an FYI, the [map of Albion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17173079) has been updated. (Other story in this series in case you can't click the link)

Dulac opened the door to see a servant hunched over in front of him. “What is it?” he asked gruffly. 

The servant gulped. A timid one then. “An invitation for you, sir. From the king, sir.” He held out a folded letter without looking up from the floor. Dulac took it from him. “He wishes to dine with some of the competitors this evening, those who have impressed him, sir.”

Dulac scanned the letter. It was as the servant said. He smiled. “You may tell him that I would be delighted to join him. I am honoured that he would invite me.”

The servant bowed even deeper, and the knight closed the door. The servant scurried away and rounded the corner before straightening up.

“And you swear you used no magic? You never cease to amaze me, Merlin,” Lancelot said. “Even I would’ve walked right past you.”

“No one notices the servants.” Merlin smiled. He glanced back toward the imposter’s room. “The bait’s been dropped. Time to finish preparing the trap. Your men are briefed?”

“Yes. They’ll be waiting in the East Hall.”

“Excellent. Can you tell Arthur that the plan has worked so far and that I’ll be back to prepare him soon?”

Lancelot nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, someone has to tell Audrey that a small feast needs to be laid out. Even Arthur would be suspicious if he was invited to a banquet and saw only one place set.”

Arthur sat beside his father at the head of the long table. He was relaxed in his chair, admiring the greenery around him. Hanging plants adorned the pillars on the edge of the room, vines spilling over the edge of the baskets. In the corner behind him, a curious contraption kept a steady stream of water pouring into a stone pool all day long, only needing to be refreshed once in the night. 

He wished they dined in here more often. The light of the setting sun shone in through the high windows and leant a soft glow to the room. But his father prefered the harsh council chambers if he had a small gathering for a meal. Which was a rare occasion in and of itself. Perhaps when Arthur was younger, or maybe as long ago as before Arthur was born, Uther used to entertain friends. Nowadays, well, Arthur was hard pressed to think of anyone his father might call a friend. He seemed to distrust everyone. 

“What did you say made you suspect this man?” Uther asked. He was not looking around, only staring at the doors, waiting for their prey to arrive. 

“He didn’t take off his helm,” Arthur said. “While not unheard of by itself, his crest was from a house I didn’t recognise. I suspected he was hiding something. I had my servant check the registry against the book of genealogy. Sir Gresham Pelinore, son of Lord Yoriac of High Cliffe does not exist.”

“And you believe he is here for something other than a good tournament?”

“I do. High Cliffe is far enough away that if he wasn’t trying so hard to hide his face, I might’ve never questioned the false identity. But with our recent trade deals that put Camelot at the centre of many prime trading routes, I can only assume he’s here for another purpose. I suspect assassination aimed at weakening the kingdom.”

The king nodded. “Good. Always better to be prepared for the worst.”

Uther would’ve said more about a king needing to stand alone and rely on no one but himself, except the click of boots on the polished marble floors heralded the arrival of their guest. A man strode in through the open oak doors. Arthur was finally able to see him without a helmet. 

He was an average man in all respects, save one. He had nearly white hair despite his otherwise youthful appearance, made more stark by the black tunic he wore. His tight trousers left little to the imagination as he strode into the hall with the confidence of a wealthy lord. He stopped at the end of the table and gave a deep bow. 

“Your Majesties,” he said. “I was honoured to receive your invitation.” Sir Gresham straightened. “Am I the first to arrive? Mother always said better to be early than late. Where shall I sit?”

Arthur was surprised by the man’s eloquence and easy-going nature. He was almost glad he was already suspicious of him; if anyone had told him after this meeting, Arthur knew it would take far more than a missing genealogy record to convince him that this man was an assassin. Although something in the way he spoke didn’t feel right. “Why don’t you sit there at the end. So we can see you.”

The doors were closed by one of the guards. Gresham glanced behind him before sitting down, now looking slightly less confident. But only slightly. 

“While we wait for the others,” Arthur said, drawing his attention back across the table, “tell me about High Cliffe. We haven’t had any communication from there in many years. Everything is second hand.”

“I am afraid I must disappoint you, sire. While I hail from High Cliffe by birth, I have not been there in many long years.” Gresham shook his head sadly. “A great fire consumed most of our estate. Much was lost.”

“So the rumours are true,” Uther said. “And your father?”

“Lord Yoriac was lost in the flames. As was the rest of my family.”

“How did you escape?” Arthur asked.

“Through sheer luck alone. I was not yet three summers old when it happened. My mother had sent me to stay with her sister further out in the country. She had a son close to my age and thought it would be good for me to spend some time with someone who I could relate to better. It was my aunt who raised me until she too passed away. One harsh winter too many.” Gresham stopped speaking. He took a long sip of water. 

“After your aunt died, you never returned to High Cliffe?” Arthur asked. 

“I passed by once, but there was nothing but ash and dust. I kept riding and never looked back.”

“And yet you carry the shield of High Cliffe,” Uther said, disapproval colouring his tone.

Gresham looked Uther in the eye. “I do not mean to offend, Your Highness, but it is all I have left of my family. I carry it with me to carry on their legacy.”

A polite knock came from the servant’s door behind them. “Some legacy,” Uther said dryly and ushered the knights and guards forward. 

Arthur had nearly forgotten the reason they were here. He looked on as Gresham was pulled to his feet and the guards searched his body. 

“What are you doing? Get your hands off me! Give me back my belt!” he demanded with indignation. Gresham strained as the guards restrained him, fists clenched.  A vein in his neck started pulsing when the guards lifted his legs like a common mule to deshoe him. 

The table filled with small knives secreted in his belt, boots, and at the small of his back. In a hidden pocket of his jacket, a vial of something green was found and placed with the other weapons. 

One guard crouched to pat up Gresham’s legs, checking for any more weapons without stripping the man to his skin. That would be unseemly in the presence of royalty. “Keep your hands away from there!” he snarled.

Arthur interrupted Gresham’s protests. “What they are doing,” he paused, waiting for Gresham to face him, “is searching your body for hidden weapons, Gresham, if that is even your name.” Arthur stood. “You see, Lord Yoriac had no fifth son. Nor did Lady Isadore have a sister to whom you could’ve been sent. That entire family was wiped out in the fire. So imagine my confusion when a knight claiming to be of that family shows up to fight in our tournament.” Arthur stepped out from behind the table and walked back toward the small door, still talking as he did so. “I asked myself: why a knight would pretend to be from an estate that was lost?”

The imposter opened his mouth, no doubt to provide a valid, but inaccurate explanation. A hard stare from Sir Bors told him staying silent would be in his best interests now. With the weapons already found on his person, there was a very slim chance he could lie his way out of this room.

Arthur continued, ignorant of the events occurring behind him. “I racked my brains, but the only answers that came to mind were nefarious plots. Assassination being the primary reason. How better to kill than in a tournament? Already, it’s a dangerous setting. Knights have died due to tournament accidents before; it wouldn’t be unheard of. You could be forgiven. Forgotten.”

The man stared at Arthur’s back, then into the hard eyes of Uther. 

“Bors. What’ve you found?” Arthur asked without turning from his place at the door.

“Three concealed knives, brass knuckles, and something that’s likely poison, sire.”

“And Merlin?”

The door before him opened. “A box of poisons, a book on the history of High Cliffe, a sword laced with poison, a set of paints, a trick lance, and a box of correspondences.” Merlin handed the lance to Arthur. “Press the red band and the point becomes quite a bit pointier.”

Arthur did so and turned to show his father. He jerked his head for Merlin to walk with him and asked, “Who was he corresponding with?”

“Sorry, sire, it’s going to take me a little longer to translate them. I figured you would rather have this first.” Merlin followed Arthur back to the table. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself...?”

“Dulac,” Merlin provided.

“Anything to say, Dulac?”

The look of shock had slipped away to be replaced with anger. “You Pendragons never see it. Never see how unjust everything is in your kingdom. Beyond your kingdom,” he sneered. “You sit here in your castle and see only what you let through your gate. You see only prosperity when there’s drought all around you. And I, for one, won’t stand by like an idle king when I can do something about that!”

Everything happened at once. Uther stood up to retort the insult delivered to him, thick eyebrows furrowed in rage. Dulac ripped his right arm free of his guard and threw it up in front of him, flicking his wrist backwards as he did so. Merlin dropped the book he was holding and dove to retrieve it. 

Arthur leapt to the side, expecting what, he wasn’t sure, but his own instincts warned him of danger. And yet nothing came. Dulac looked at his wrist in confusion. The knight next to him grabbed his arm and pushed up his sleeve, revealing a contraption to shoot darts. It was hidden in a bracer normal for men to wear, especially if they were archers. It explained why it hadn’t been found before. The knight yanked Dulac’s arm down and used his own dagger to cut off the contraption. 

“Take him to the dungeons,” Uther commanded. “Perform a more thorough search there. He shall be executed at the first bell tomorrow.”

With a nod, the guards forcefully escorted him from the room, the prisoner shouting curses all the while. 

“Well done, son,” Uther said. “I knew it was a good decision to let you host the tournament.” He walked from the room, pausing at the doorway and looking back. “I trust you have a plan for the food?”

Arthur grinned. “It will serve its original purpose. I do still wish to dine with some of the top fighters.”

Uther nodded with a slight smile and left. 

“I’ll spread the word that dinner is ready,” Merlin offered. 

“Yes, thank you. And Merlin? You did good work as well. I don’t know how, but I don’t think that man even looked at you once.”

“No one pays any attention to the servants, Arthur. I’ve told you that before.”

“So you have. I guess now I can finally see how useful it is.”

Merlin only rolled his eyes and went to find Lancelot and the other knights in Arthur’s inner circle. They hadn’t had a meal together in a while. Plus Bors wouldn’t let Leon forget that he’d lost his bet so he had to play them some music on his gamba. Maybe they would be treated to a performance tonight.

It had been dark for hours when Merlin finally crept down the stairs into the dungeons. Lancelot was the ranking guard, and when he saw Merlin approach, he sent his subordinate to do a check on the other end of the dungeons. With an exchange of nods, Merlin came down the stairs the rest of the way. 

Lancelot expected Merlin to just walk past, but he stopped first. 

“I need your opinion on how well this disguise works.” Merlin lifted a metal pendant on a cord out from under his tunic and pressed one of the markings. To Lancelot’s eyes, his friend appeared to ripple like a disturbance in a lake and then a new person stood before him. He was a slightly chubby man with long brown hair and green eyes. He even had some stubble on his chin. “What do you think?” When he spoke, his voice was slightly deeper. “Do I look like myself?” 

Lancelot lifted a torch from the bracket on the wall and brought it closer to see better. Even with the additional light, he didn’t look like Merlin. He shook his head. 

Merlin beamed, and Lancelot had to stifle a laugh. “No disguise can hide that smile though. Try not to be too happy about the interrogation.”

Merlin schooled his features again. “I won’t.” With a nod of thanks, he put his hood back up and walked to the end of the row, stopping in front of the cell holding Dulac. Knowing the other prison guard would likely return, he wordlessly cast a charm to erect a sound barrier. Then, he waited. 

It didn’t take long for the prisoner to open his eyes and see his visitor. He quickly sat up and grabbed at his waist, forgetting that his blades had been confiscated. “Who are you?”

“It matters not. What matters is that you tried to assassinate Prince Arthur.”

“So? What’s it to you?” Dulac leaned back against the wall, arms folded across his chest. 

“You were not working alone. Who was your contact?”

“No one.”

Merlin snapped out a word, and Dulac sucked in a sharp breath as a bone in his first finger fractured. His hand now cradled against his chest. He looked up at Merlin. 

“That is a lie,” Merlin said. “Letters were found in your room.”

“You have magic.”

Merlin continued over his astonishment, “Even now, they are being translated.”

“Why would you protect the Pendragons?” Dulac demanded.

Again, Merlin paid him no mind, his voice remaining even. “It would be in your best interests to tell me who you work for before I find out the long way.”

“What can you offer me? I’m going to die in the morning.” He leaned back against the dingy wall. “I doubt you would free me.”

“In my time living in Camelot, I have seen many executions. And if I have learned one thing, it is that they are imperfect. Even the beheadings. That was what was decided on for you. They take a long time. You should be grateful that your death is not by pyre. Those take the longest. An average of eleven minutes longer than beheading. Seven minutes longer than hanging.” He paused, letting that detailed knowledge sink in. Merlin wished he didn’t know the statistics. He wished he had only witnessed a couple. “You know I have magic; I can control just how long yours will last.”

Dulac seemed to consider this. Merlin waited patiently. Mostly. “The guard will come this way in two minutes. Decide quickly. How much pain do you wish to experience?”

Dulac stuck his chin up proudly. “You can do what you want. I want to see Camelot fall. I’ll do nothing to help you. Make it as painful as you wish. I’ll still be dead, and my masters will know I haven’t betrayed them.”

“Very well then.” Merlin walked away, cloak trailing behind from his long strides. 

“Have fun decoding the letters,” Dulac called after him, and Merlin wanted to groan. Not only were they in a rare language for these parts, but they were in code, too.


	13. The Two Tiered Tournament - Part 4

It was a rather sparsely attended execution the next morning. Normally, everyone in Camelot would be called to the courtyard, but even Uther understood that the tournament took higher precedence. Really, this was just like getting rid of a pest. Merlin made no move to interfere with the sharpness of the blade one way or another; he let Fate control this one. It ended up being quick. 

And so, they were back on the dias again. Some reshuffling of the orders had to be arranged, but ultimately the final round was jousting and it was total points that counted more than who you went against. The tilts mattered, but capturing rings mattered more. The instructors had rigged up a complicated course this year and so far no one had captured every ring. 

In the lower circuit, Lancelot’s friend, Percival, won the tournament. Merlin cheered loudly when Arthur hung the medal around his neck and declared him champion to the crowd. In a quieter voice, he told Percival to expect an invitation to the feast that night. 

Lancelot was doing quite well in the upper circuit. In fact, he was currently tied for the lead with the masked knight from Lorraine. Lancelot had scored higher in the previous rounds, but the other man succeeded in capturing all but one ring. 

Now, it was all down to the final tilt. All the others had been eliminated. 

They both sat on their horses, one light grey, one dark with a white mark on its forehead. Neither were sitting as tall as they had earlier in the day. 

Visors were down, lances in hand. The man in the middle confirmed both were ready, and he raised the flag. Everyone leant forward slightly. The lances were lowered to charging position. The stadium seemed to hold its breath. 

With a crack of the fabric, the flag snapped down and the mounts leapt forward. The crowd erupted into cheers, banners and handkerchiefs alike waving in support of both men. 

From Arthur’s vantage and with his expertise, he could see that both men were fighting to hold the long poles steady. They were well matched; he didn’t know which would win. Perhaps it would only come down to stamina. His fingers tensed on the arms of his chair. 

At the last moment, the mystery knight’s lance slipped away. Lancelot quickly adjusted his own to deal a softer blow to his opponent. 

Arthur relaxed back into his chair as the crowd went wild. It was a tremendous show, but the Camelot knight had won out. Only a few would realise it was a surrender, but it was a well-played surrender nonetheless. Both men dismounted and walked back to shake hands across the centre barrier. 

Merlin handed the medal to Arthur to bestow on Lancelot. As he took it, Arthur whispered to Merlin, “Go find Gwaine and tell him congratulations from me.”

Merlin was momentarily surprised - he hadn’t expected Arthur to know what house Gwaine hailed from - but then he realised the house didn’t matter. Gwaine did have some signature moves. He smiled and slipped off to find his friend. 

He found Gwaine back in the house at the edge of town, splashing his face with water from the well. “Arthur says congratulations.”

Gwaine looked up. “I didn’t think you were going to tell him.”

“I didn’t. We both underestimated him. He recognised your fighting style.”

Gwaine snorted. “That’s what I get for teaching myself not to fight like anyone else.” He ran a cloth over his arms and then threw a loose tunic on, joining Merlin at the table. “So he knows I’m a noble now?”

“I wouldn’t count on it. There was another man who was an imposter and claiming to be from a house he was not. Arthur will probably assume you were also using a crest not your own.” Merlin laughed to himself. “Arthur thinks you’re common born, and yet you’re noble. Lancelot, the man you were fighting?”

“Yeah, you’ve told me about him. You said he was one of the good knights.”

“He’s common born, yet Arthur thinks he is noble. The imposter today tried to pull the same trick I did when I faked Lancelot’s credentials. He just doesn’t have my skills.”

Merlin froze. He had forgotten that he hadn’t told Gwaine of his magic. Maybe he would just assume he meant artistic skills. Yeah, right. What peasant was given training as an artist? He opened his mouth to backtrack, but Gwaine spoke first.

“You’re sure you don’t wanna come travelling with me?” Gwaine asked. “I know Arthur doesn’t appreciate your special skills and you’d be able to get out of that stuffy castle.”

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. Gwaine had figured it out on his own. And perhaps some time ago. He smiled even as he refused the offer. 

“I’m sorry, Gwaine, but my place is at Arthur’s side. I know he’s not perfect yet, but he is learning.”

“If you say so. Maybe I’ll consider staying for good when Arthur is king.” Gwaine stood and Merlin saw that he had already packed his belongings. “Until then, Merlin.”

“Oh wait, I have something for you.” Merlin pulled a small cylindrical package out of his inside jacket pocket. He was going to try to lie about it until he worked up the courage to tell Gwaine how it really worked, but he could tell him now. “Use this to keep in touch.” He handed him the enchanted merlin feather in its simple case. “We’re still in Camelot so I can’t explain better, but write on any paper and I’ll get it.”

Gwaine looked at the package and back up at Merlin. His eyes were burning with questions, but he breathed deep and tucked the gift in an inside pocket and patted it. “Someday you’ll have to tell me all your mysteries, Merlin. First the ring, and now this. We’re not secretly engaged, are we?”

“Goddess save the poor girl who does marry you,” Merlin teased. “Stay safe.”

Gwaine grew serious and nodded. “I will. Thank you.”

As Merlin walked back through the town, he watched the townspeople carry their flames from the central bonfire back home to relight their hearths. He waved briefly at Gwen carrying her own torch back to fill her home with warmth. At the Amber Rook Inn, the fires were already roaring, brightly lit windows calling in the exhausted fighters to celebrate the harvest with plenty of food and drink. He even spotten Tremi and his mother calmly carrying their torch. It may have been the only time he had seen his friend walking rather than running or drunkenly stumbling. 

The glittering lights eased the anxiety he felt. It seemed like too many things were changing recently. Yet, not all change was bad. Maybe this coming year would be one for new beginnings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this four part arc. Next one is back to the normal two part. (Far fewer povs as well)


	14. Sorcerous Stealings - Part 1

A thick blanket of snow covered the courtyard and the homes in the upper town. Even now, there was still a gentle snowfall glittering in the moonlight. Small tendrils of smoke curled up from hearths, keeping the villagers warm in their beds. Not a breeze stirred the air, not an animal called out in the night. Everything was still and quiet, which was why Merlin didn’t understand what woke him. 

Clutching his blanket around him, he moved away from the window and crept into the library. There was no midnight oil burning as a student studied; he heard no sound of footsteps. Still no sign of what had disturbed his sleep. He walked to the large mirror hiding the entrance to his secret room. A light tap on the appropriate rune redirected the gateway.

Stepping through, Merlin waved his hand to light the sconces in the cave. His study had expanded a lot this winter. There was now a table and a workbench, many stone shelves for books, and he had stores of herbs for experiments. But what he walked to now was his message board.

Pieces of parchment were attached to the wall, each with a name on the top. He had perfected the messaging quills and a select few in his network had been given one. There were no messages waiting for him. Only the warning from Morgan about a storm approaching. He frowned. 

Merlin grabbed his scrying bowl and levitated it down to collect water from the underground river. He checked the likely places for trouble in the castle, and still he saw nothing that might cause alarm. Puzzled, he returned to bed, trying to ignore his dread. 

It wasn’t until after breakfast that he found the cause of the disturbance. 

Arthur was twirling his knife on the table while Merlin tidied the room. A knock at the door interrupted Merlin teasing Arthur about his desire to train despite the snow. It was Sir Leon.

“The king requests your presence in the council chambers, sire.”

“Thank you, Leon,” Arthur said, standing up from his table. He slid his knife into his belt and walked out of his chambers, followed by Merlin. To their surprise, Sir William was in the council chambers as well, holding a large ledger and a scroll.

“There has been a robbery.” Uther wasted no time on pleasantries. “Last night, someone broke into the vaults and stole valuable artifacts.”

“Why am I only hearing about this now?” Arthur asked.

“Because it was not discovered until the changing of the guard.” He drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne. “The new guards performed their mandatory sweep of the area and noticed partial footprints in the dust. The night shift say they heard no disturbance; it must be the work of sorcery.”

“I don’t mean to cast blame upon our guards, but is it possible that they were drugged or that the intruder got past using other methods besides magic?” Arthur asked. “Surely the warning system would have alerted the guards. It has been proven to work in the past.”

The king shook his head. “No. This must be the work of sorcery. They were after magical objects.”

“What did they take?”

“We don’t know. That is why I have tasked William with doing a complete inventory of the vaults to determine what’s absent. I would like you to lend him your servant for as long as it takes.” He glanced at William. “I am told the boy has good penmanship.”

“Better than mine in my old age,” William agreed. 

“Of course,” Arthur said. He turned to Merlin. “As long as you notify the steward and have someone else do your usual chores, help William as long as he needs you.”

“Yes, sire.”

Uther nodded. “And Arthur, I want you to organise men to conduct a thorough search. It’s possible that the thief may still be in Camelot. Perhaps hiding, perhaps looking to sell what he has taken.”

“Yes, sire.”

“That is all. I shall expect a progress report from both of you tomorrow.”

All three bowed and exited the chambers. 

After talking to the steward, Merlin met William down in the vaults. He had mixed feelings about the place. It really was an impressive collection of treasures: many glittering artifacts from around the world and wondrous magical tools and trinkets that had been stolen from their owners. Like a rope that bound a person to the truth, no matter what language they spoke in. Or this box that, when opened, played a lullaby with twirling dancers inside.

But this was also where the disks were kept. And it was because of those that he currently had a stranglehold on his magic, trying to push it further down inside. Even so, Merlin could still see the faint glow of the disks on the shelf and those outside on the wall. William looked up when he entered and frowned in sympathy. 

“It may look like a lot, but we should finish by this evening,” he comforted. “And I’ll make sure to send you up to fetch our meals so you can have a breather.”

“Thanks. So where do we start?”

He pointed. “Shelf A. Just like the library. Work top down and I’ll check it off in the inventory.” He opened the large tome to shelf A on the small table in front of him. “What do we have first?”

Merlin reached up and picked up the first object. “It is a candle. Purple.”

“Oh, that’s the candle of Lyman,” William said as he placed a checkmark in the book. “It’s said to always light the way in the dark and never needs replacing. But if the bearer of the candle uses this wax to seal their letters, then the message will combust after being read.”

Merlin nodded and picked up the next object. Despite what William said, he knew this would take more than one day.

_ I've heard nothing from anyone else in the network; you're sure no one you know is aware of anything? This isn't the storm you warned me about? _

Merlin was grateful that William had called an early night and his time in the vaults was done for the day. However, his work wasn't done. Nothing had tripped any of his own sensors last night so how the thief accomplished his deed was still unknown. 

No one in the network had heard anything about a planned robbery of the vaults, but that wasn’t surprising. However, he had hoped that Morgan would know something at least. 

_ Don't be foolish, young one.  _ Her scrawling words appeared on the page as she wrote. She had helped him with an extra charm to create perpetual ink for the quill and he could see why she needed it. She wrote so fast and with such thin strokes that needing to dip the quill constantly would seem tedious to her.  _ Of course this is not the storm. Although it does look like there could be more snowfall coming your way.  _

Merlin rolled his eyes.  _ Wonderful. And you’re sure you know nothing? I know you have people watching the castle. Don’t try to deny it. _

“There was a spell in place,” Morgan said suddenly from next to him. Merlin whirled to face her. Her hands were on her hips, her littlest finger tapping in warning. “I couldn't tell if anything was happening.”

He was fed up with her surprising him. “Oh, the all powerful head of the Unseelie Court couldn’t deal with a human spell?” he snapped back, his own arms now folded across his chest. The quill hovered in the air by the board. 

“It was a reflection of some sort!” she retorted. “My spells were bounced back at me. And you know the preferred term is the Shadow Court.”

Merlin interrupted and muttered, “Sounds more like you got distracted while looking in the mirror.”

She firmly ignored the implication and instead said sharply, “Like there was nothing to detect.” Turning to frown at the cave wall, Morgan flexed her fingers and searched for the right words. “It’s a strange feeling when you know something’s there but you can’t see it.” Merlin watched her in concern. Her chin lifted slightly and she snapped her fingers, turning back to Merlin. “Imagine if the sun was shining but when you looked up, it wasn’t there. That’s what it felt like.”

“I didn't know that was possible.” Merlin’s voice lost its barb, too. “Like a void in the fabric of magic?” 

Morgan nodded. 

“So there must be some sort of spell that can do it. That can imitate an absence of magic.” Merlin began to pace. “You don't know of any such spell?”

Morgan’s eyes followed him, but that was all she moved. “No. And before you ask, I know of no creature that has this effect.”

“And no device that may have been in the vaults that could achieve this? Perhaps an altered shield?”

“Again, not that I know of. And even if there were, that can’t be what we’re after. The break-in was hidden just as much as the breakout.”

Merlin frowned. “Just another mystery for me to look into. Would you ask around as well? That seems useful to know.”

Morgan nodded and vanished as suddenly as she had appeared. Scribbling a note to Iseildur, Merlin too retired to bed. 

Only he couldn’t sleep. He was still thinking about this shield Morgan had described. She said it was like a reflection. He wondered if it was similar to the invisibility spell he had tried. But he doubted the caster was trying to render the castle invisible. That would attract more trouble than it was worth. 

It must be powerful magic, to construct a shield like that and maintain it with Morgan’s gaze bearing down. The strong magic must’ve been what woke him. He rolled onto his side and pulled his blanket up. Whatever they were trying to do, Merlin could suss it out tomorrow on a well rested brain.


	15. Sorcerous Stealings - Part 2

The cataloguing went much faster the next morning, and before he knew it, they were nearly done. The council was meeting in the afternoon anyways so William brought the final list to the meeting. Merlin was in attendance to refill water. Normally, these were incredibly boring, but today he was interested. He hoped this would not lead Uther to start another rigorous witch hunt, but one could never be sure. 

“Thank you for the report, Lord Eldrich,” Uther was saying. “Sir William, you have the inventory list of what was stolen?”

“I do, sire.” He pushed himself to his feet and held the scroll in front of him. “It's a good size list, sire. The thief either had a bag or an accomplice; it’s too much to carry on one’s own.”

“Just read the list.”

“Yes, sire.” He cleared his throat. “A handheld mirror enchanted for scrying, a map of Albion and the lands beyond drawn up by Ranca, the gauntlet known as Beasts’ Burden, a necklace sorcerers used to boost their own energy, a jar of unknown plants—”

“The inventory does not say what plants?” Uther interrupted. 

“Sadly, it does not. Perhaps it was feared too dangerous to examine the jar closely when it was first inventoried.”

“Was anything else taken?”

“Seeds of a magical peach tree and one of the disks.” William lowered the scroll. “In my opinion, whoever this was, came here with a purpose. The other items were hardly disturbed unless they were blocking the object of his desire.”

Uther nodded and William sat down again. Now was the tense moment for Merlin. Waiting while the king made a decision. In the silence, Arthur spoke up.

“What is it that makes a peach tree magical?” 

Merlin wanted to roll his eyes. Of course that was the most important follow-up question to ask. Although, he supposed he should be grateful it wasn’t another question. Arthur’s views on magic were slowly changing; maybe he didn’t even notice it himself. But if this had happened when Merlin first came to Camelot, Arthur would have first asked about the Beast’s Burden and how it could be used as a weapon, simply because it was a gauntlet. 

“It can grow during the winter,” Sir William explained. “Nothing more than that.”

“You found nothing in your searches of the town?” Uther asked. 

“Nothing so far,” Arthur said. 

“Expand the search into the surrounding area. Look for signs of footprints being wiped from the snow. Signs of travellers. Search anyone that could be our thief. Question everyone.”

Merlin had to suppress a groan. He knew Arthur was probably doing so as well. Uther was sending them out in the snow, the knee deep snow. It was cold. Freezing really. A glance out the window told Merlin the snowfall had started up again and the wind would surely follow. 

He caught Arthur’s haughty look. It told him there was no way he would be getting out of the search party. If Arthur had to suffer, so did Merlin.

 

Somedays, Merlin really wished he was braver about using his magic. He knew what William would say. He would scold him for even thinking of using his magic like that. Not only for the sheer foolishness of trying to maintain a flawless illusion spell while traipsing through the snow, but for the idiocy of doing it while surrounded by knights trained to seek out and kill those with magic.

William wouldn’t like a lot of what Merlin was doing these days. Perhaps that was why he was glad that Merlin was spending an increasing amount of time underground. You couldn’t worry about what you didn’t know. 

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, trying to get Merlin’s attention for the fifth time. “Has your brain frozen as well as your little toes?”

“It’s still warmer than your brain has ever been,” Merlin immediately responded. Even if he could create an illusion to be out here in the snow while he was warm in the castle, he couldn’t make an illusion speak. And if he didn’t sass back at Arthur, then he would be suspicious for sure. Merlin looked down from his place on the horse to see Arthur crouched in the snow between their mounts. 

Arthur looked like he wanted to tease him more, but instead, he took off his cloak and threw it at Merlin. “Take it. Even I can see you need it more than I.”

Merlin nodded in thanks and wrapped the warm fabric around him. Perhaps he could increase his warmth charm a little more without attracting suspicion. “How much longer are we staying out?”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but then he saw the attention of the knights, also knee deep in snow, he had brought with them. They were trying to hide it, but they were also cold. He glanced up at the sun, partially obscured by the clouds. “Let’s wrap it up here. This new snowfall has covered any old prints anyways. And I don’t need an icicle for a manservant.”

The men quickly mounted their horses and rode back into the city. Merlin kept his hands under his armpits and Arthur’s cloak around him, trusting his horse to follow the others. They had made it almost all the way back to the city without incident when Arthur spotted four children huddled by the city gates. He turned his horse off the path and Merlin followed. 

Dismounting, Arthur crouched down to their level and asked where their home was. They didn’t respond. “Do you have somewhere you can go to stay warm? It looks like there will be more snow coming.”

The oldest child shook his head. “Our parents are gone. We got nowhere.”

Arthur looked up at Merlin and then back at the children. Merlin could see the resolve in his eyes. “Come with me. I’ll bring you to the inn to stay warm.” He stood and reached out a hand. 

“But we don’t have enough money to stay at the inn.” His teeth were chattering as he spoke.

“Good thing I do then. Come on, I can’t let you freeze out here.” 

Nodding, the oldest stood and helped lift the younger children onto the horses. Two riding with Merlin, two with Arthur. As they were lifted up, Merlin noticed a druid spiral on the leg of one of the girls. He couldn’t be sure if Arthur saw it, but if he did, the prince said nothing. Merlin quietly expanded his heat charm to warm up the two on his horse. 

Once through the city gates, Arthur sent the knights to warm up and join the feast that was already in progress. Then he and Merlin rode through the narrow streets to The Amber Rook. It was a respectable inn, not one that was known for late night drinking or for being robbed. Mary and her husband, Sir Elmswood, ran the establishment. When their little group walked in, it was Mary who greeted them.

“Good day, Your Highness.” She dropped a quick curtsey, coming around the bar. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello, Mary. Do you have a room where these children can stay for a few nights? I couldn’t leave them in the cold with the snowfall. I’ll pay for them of course.”

Mary rushed forward. “Oh my poor dears! You look positively frozen.” She felt the cheeks of the little girl. They were nearly ice. “Let me make up some hot tea to help you warm up.” She rushed behind the bar and back into the kitchen, still talking as she readied the kettle. “Of course there’s room. Not many travellers lately with the cold. They can stay in any of the rooms on the first floor. There’s a room for all of them to sleep in one if they would like, and I can get extra blankets from another room.”

“I can do that, Mary,” Merlin offered. 

“Thank you, Merlin.”

A hand on the shoulder of the oldest, Merlin led them up the stairs and into the second room on the right. There were only two beds, but they were large enough for all four to share. He sat them on the beds and grabbed extra blankets. The oldest helped him wrap them all in the wool. 

“I don’t mean to startle you,” Merlin said to the oldest, “but I noticed the druid tattoo on her leg. Which camp do you belong to?”

“You must be imagining things,” the oldest tried to protest. “None of us have any ties to magic.”

Merlin shook his head slightly and crouched down to put himself closer to their height. “What’s your name?” he asked gently.

The oldest still looked at him with a stubborn mein. “Caleb. What’s it to you?”

“I’m Merlin. I just want to help.” He glanced at the door and then held out his palm, a flame burning within. When he saw he had their attention, it changed into four butterflies that flew around the room before landing on their blankets and warming them up. “I can take you to Iseildur’s camp. They can keep you warm and well fed.”

Caleb lost his look of distrust at Merlin’s display of magic. “Only Lucy and Em were born druids.” He nodded to the youngest children. Merlin would guess they were five and seven summers old. “I’ve been taking care of them. Where’s this camp?”

“A day’s walk outside of the city. I can take you there tomorrow if the storm’s not too bad.”

“Tea’s ready!” Mary called from downstairs. 

“Come on and have some tea. I’ll come back tomorrow after you’ve had some time to think. But Mary will take care of you in the meantime.”

It ended up being three days before the snow storm calmed down enough for Merlin to risk traipsing through the woods. He asked William to cover for him. “Anyone asks, say I’ve got a cold and I need undisturbed sleep for the day.” Not that anyone bar Arthur would likely notice. Then, throwing on his cloak and a warming spell, he collected the children from the inn, thanked Mary for taking care of them, and began their walk out of the city. It was a long walk, but with plenty of warming spells and only a few snowball fights to keep smiling, they made it just before sunset. 

Elizabeth met them in the main tent. “Emrys, we were surprised to hear you reach out; we didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“Sorry I couldn’t reach out earlier. Arthur’s been a handful lately. Some nights I think I’ll fall asleep on my feet before even making it to my bed.”

“Well, come on down out of the cold; I can see the young ones are exhausted.” Elizabeth and the children climbed down the ladder, and Merlin helped levitate Lucy down into Elizabeth’s waiting arms. They walked down the winding paths to the fire pits and introductions were made. 

As Merlin had expected, Elizabeth and many of the other women immediately took the orphans under their wing and relieved Caleb of being their sole provider. Merlin smiled at Caleb’s bewildered look at the care. 

When Lucy asked for Merlin to make the butterflies again, he couldn’t refuse. “Cup your hands together,” he told her and the other children. “Now count to three. One, two, three.” His eyes flashed gold. “And open your hands.” From each of their hands flew a butterfly of glittering light, each one a unique colour. 

As much as he would love to stay and play with the kids, Merlin couldn’t stay long. He had one more errand to complete. Saying farewell to the children, and sneaking away from the other children he already knew would beg for stories, he found the schoolmaster, Alastair, in his home. 

“Emrys,” he greeted. “I thought I felt your presence. What brings you here?”

“A gift for you.” Merlin reached into his pocket and pulled out a neckerchief wrapped around the gift. “Forgive the packaging, but it might have ruined the surprise otherwise.”

Alastair took the bundle and lifted back the corners. When he saw what was inside, he gasped. “How did you find one? I believed them to all be destroyed.” He held the brightly glowing disk in his hands. With a light touch, the glowing faded.

“These are the teaching instruments then? I only had your description to work from.” Alastair nodded, confirming Merlin’s guess. “They’ve been in the vaults of Camelot. There are more, but to take more than one would have been a little too suspicious. The guards use them to hunt out magic. Trust me when I say I would have loved to steal them all.”

“Even having one is indeed a precious gift.” He handed back the cloth. “Would you like to see how it’s meant to be used?” Alastair held up the disk. 

“Ah, no.” Merlin couldn’t help but still feel unnerved by the disks. It was hard not to bolt or shove his magic deep inside himself at the sight of them. Even in the schoolteacher’s hand, it still glowed in his presence. “I need to get back to Camelot. I asked William to tell everyone I had a cold, but if I take too long, the physician will actually come to check on me.”

Alastair chuckled. “And that would be problematic.”

“Exactly.” 


	16. Heard by not Seen - Part 1

Being stuck in the castle all winter gave Merlin more opportunities to practice his disguise spells. He learned that sometimes the smallest of changes could confuse the mind. Once, he altered the shape of his ears, to the confusion of Gwen, who couldn’t figure out what was different. Lancelot was unable to guess when he changed the line of his eyebrows, but his favourite was fooling Arthur. Merlin added an inch to his height and Arthur spent the entire two days glaring at Merlin and being extra grumpy without saying why. Though the extra height had downsides too.

“Merlin!” Audrey yelled, brandishing a large, very menacing spoon. “If you knock over one more pot, I don’t care whose servant you are, I am going to get you banished from this castle.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Merlin apologised, backing out of the kitchen carefully. “I’ll just leave.” He made it out of the kitchens safely. He heard Tremi ask if he could also be banished from the kitchens. 

“No. You’re on spit duty since you came to work drunk this morning.”

Merlin smiled. Tremi was always drunk in the morning. Most of the time he managed it well, but last night had been someone’s birthday and he had stayed later than usual. Merlin saw him stumbling back when he was on his way to wake Arthur. 

Audrey was right: this extra height only exacerbated his typical clumsiness. He was tempted to leave his height permanently changed, but if there was a person more powerful than Uther, it was Audrey. They say the way to influence kings is through money, but the servants understand just how powerful food can be. If she said he would be banished, he would be out before sunset. He needed to change back. 

There was just one more thing. 

The workshop was busy as usual. Women were chattering excitingly about castle gossip and Merlin could faintly hear someone humming while they worked. Gwen complained that he disrupted the peace whenever he came in here, but Merlin wished he didn’t. It seemed like a nice place to work. Everyone smiling and laughing to distract from the tedious work. Not to mention that these women had some of the best gossip in the entire town, and between them, they knew everyone. If you want to know who had a child, who is feeling ill, who got the best deal in the market, they know. 

“Hi, Merlin,” Rose said with a smile almost as soon as he walked in. “You wanna sit by me today? I might need help with this pattern.”

“You’re better than me at patterns, you don’t need my help,” he replied, puzzled. “I was looking for Gwen.”

Her smile fell slightly. 

“She’s in the back at the stand,” Ketal said before Rose could try again.

“Thanks.” Merlin wove through the fabric stretched across the room to find Gwen. She was adjusting a tunic on a wire frame that kinda looked like a human torso. She didn’t seem pleased at the fit. “Did you still need me, or have I been replaced?”

Gwen looked up. “Merlin! I thought the girls had gone suspiciously quiet.” She turned to look back at the room and everyone quickly turned back to their work and started talking again. “Yes, you’re the same size as Arthur and it’s easier to adjust the fit on a person than this model.” She motioned for him to stand next to her stool. “Jacket and shirt off. Quick as you like.”

Merlin did as he was told and just as quickly pulled the new tunic on. Gwen had him turn slowly while she pulled at the fabric and occasionally poked him with needles. “Does it feel like a good fit?” she asked. 

“Yeah. Bit snug around the gut, but we both know Arthur eats far more than I do.”

Gwen laughed. “You’re mean. Now, arms up. No weird stiffness? No? Good.” She grabbed a pair of trousers from the chair. “Now these, leave the tunic on. You can change behind the screen.”

He gratefully walked behind the barrier, quirking his lips as he heard the groans of disappointment. He pulled up the waist and felt the hem pass his ankles. Perfect. 

He walked out from behind the screen and Gwen inspected him again. She ran a finger along the waistband, checking the tightness. “Not too tight?”

“No.”

“Alright, up on the stool.” She stood back, then frowned. “You don’t have the waist pulled up too high, do you?” she asked.

“No. Why?” Merlin asked, feigning puzzlement. 

She shook her head. “They’re too short.” She took a measure and inspected the gap of skin left bare. “It needs an inch and a half more. I’ll have to redo them.” She stood back up. “Go get changed. I’ll send word if I need you again.”

An inch and a half. He had only added an inch to his height. Now he had proof that he was actually taller than Arthur. Not that he could tell him that exactly. At least he would still get the fun of seeing Arthur stubbornly try to wear trousers that were too long for him because he would undoubtedly refuse to acknowledge that Merlin was taller than him. He certainly wouldn’t assume Gwen made a mistake. 

Merlin stumbled as he pulled his legs out of the trousers. He almost hopped out from behind the barrier, but he reversed directions just in time. This height change was getting ridiculous now. With a sigh, he whispered the counterspell. 

He watched as his eyeline dropped back down slightly and he felt properly balanced again for the first time in two days. He quickly finished changing and handed the clothes back to Gwen before heading off to complete his other chores. He still nearly tripped on a ball of wool on his way out, so unfortunately he couldn’t completely erase his clumsiness. 

Merlin also practiced more complex alterations around the castle as well, dressing in the typical servant clothes and carrying an armful of sheets through the hallways. No one recognised him, but people still stopped to talk to him or ask him to do things for them. It wasn’t as if most of the nobles knew any of the servants anyway. However, this wouldn’t work as a disguise when he needed to spy on visitors to Camelot. He needed a way to sneak around without being stopped.

Hence the invisibility spell. It hadn’t worked last time, but his magic was stronger now and he’d read more books on the theory behind invisibility magic before trying it out. Which was why he let out a whoop of joy when he watched his body vanish from sight in the mirror before him. Even as he moved, he could see no hint of his presence. With a large, if hidden, smile, he ran through the shelves to the table William was occupying. 

“I did it!” he exclaimed. “I’m totally invisible! See?” He spun in a circle, his arms out wide. 

William looked up. As he couldn’t see his ward, he took a guess at where he was. “Congratulations. Although may I remind you that being unseen doesn’t work as well for stealth if you keep talking.” 

“Ah, right. Well, I need to jot that down. Find a spell for silence.” A quill lifted from the table and flew across the room to Merlin’s hand. 

“Also note down that things you pick up don’t become invisible,” William advised. 

Merlin ran back to the mirror and saw only the quill in his hand. “ _ Fiat fiet istud absconditum ab oculis pulsat eburno.”  _ The quill melted from view. Returning to his notebook, Merlin noticed the complication this presented. “Ah. That is going to make things difficult.”

“What is it?” William asked. “Can you undo the spell?”

“Not that. Although let me try that first.  _ Quarum sacra fero dimittere placendi. _ ” He looked again and saw both the quill and his own body. He walked back to Sir William. “If I make the quill invisible, it’s invisible to me as well. Just as I can’t see myself, I also can’t seen anything I make invisible.” It wasn’t a huge problem for writing, but it might be a problem if he tried to flight while invisible.

“That will be difficult. I expect that it will become easier with practice. Already, you do many things without needing to see them. If you had to look at your feet in order to walk, you would run into everything instead. Just like any other skill...” William said.

“Practice makes perfect,” Merlin finished. “I know, you’ve told me thousands of times. I guess that means I have to practice then.” With the thrill of mastering this spell, Merlin’s spirits wouldn’t stay down for long. “You’ll see me later.  _ Et facti sunt abscondita est ab oculis triae. Sit enim corpus meum de indumentis occultatum est ut exsisto I. _ ” And he vanished from sight. 

With the spring weather warming up the day, Arthur was spending more time outside training off the extra weight gained in winter. This meant Merlin had free time to run around the castle while invisible and practice dodging people in the hallways. Invisibility was a large enough hurdle to overcome; he would wait before looking up spells to become incorporeal. 

Already, it was harder than he’d thought to navigate without seeing his body. He didn’t need to look at his feet, sure, but he would reach out to catch a wall as he swung around a corner out of habit, only to miss the wall and stumble into a suit of armor. The clashing would sometimes startle a nearby guard patrol and he would have to duck into an alcove to hide. 

The first time he went down stairs was a disaster. As William had said, he didn’t look at his feet while walking, so he didn’t think it would be an issue. And yet as he darted down the stairs, his feet didn’t land where he thought they would, or rather he had a harder time judging the distance between the steps and accidentally launched himself down the staircase. Thankfully, being invisible meant that he could use his magic freely and he caught himself in midair rather than deal with the bruising. After that, he ran a hand along the wall and walked slower.

Invisibility was also fun for spying on your friends. Arthur had rudely dismissed him in the afternoon, probably still bitter about the height thing, but there was something else as well. So Merlin ducked into an alcove and whispered the spell. A guard walked past a moment later and peered curiously right at where Merlin was standing. He held his breath until the man moved on. 

Then Merlin walked back to Arthur’s chambers. He got there as soon as Arthur stepped out, checking both ways before closing the door behind him. He was carrying a picnic basket.

It was not Arthur’s picnic basket. Merlin would know. Merlin had also not fetched a picnic basket for him. This was becoming even more suspicious. And what was a suspicious, currently invisible servant meant to do but follow him?

Merlin followed him through the corridors and up the stairs to one of the turrets, where they then found Gwen. Oh. Of course. Arthur was in charge of the patrol and he could ensure that none of his father’s men found them up here. Merlin should really leave them alone. Gwen had already laid out a blanket and some food for them along with a couple pillows. She was standing on the edge of the blanket, having set down the basket Arthur handed her with a muttered “Thanks.” She looked down, smoothed her skirt. Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, cleared his throat. Merlin bit back a sigh and rolled his eyes at the pair of them. 

Hopeless. Utterly hopeless. Arthur rolled his shoulders, Gwen could offer a back massage. She didn’t. The strong wind was blowing Gwen’s curls, Arthur could brush them back. He didn’t. Gwen could comment on the unusual heat and ask if Arthur needed help taking his shirt off. Okay, maybe not the last one. As always, it was up to him. He had promised himself not to interfere in their relationship, but this would just be giving a nudge. 

Merlin pushed Gwen from behind and she stumbled right into Arthur’s arms. Merlin left the tower to the sound of her apologizing and Arthur suggesting that they forget all about it and eat. 

A week of Merlin navigating how to operate while invisible passed before Arthur came to find him in the library. Merlin and William were enjoying a light broth for lunch when he walked in. “I need help from both of you.”

“What do you need?” Merlin asked. 

“Rumors have been circulating about a possible ghost in the castle. People are hearing noises and things have been misplaced. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, but my father’s worried about magic.”

Merlin and William exchanged looks. 

“He wants to know if there’s a magical creature that can turn invisible,” Arthur said. “And how to kill it. Like I said, I don’t think it’s anything more than some people who are easily spooked at night or people who forget where they put their things. But I’d like to have something to tell him when this latest witch hunt finds nothing.”

William assured Arthur that they would look for any such creature and report to him when they found something. Arthur nodded and left. William turned his focus on his ward.

“Just what have you been up to while invisible?” 

Merlin threw his hands up at the force of the disappointed look. “I’m not stealing from anyone! Maybe I moved one or two things, but they were small, harmless pranks on the knights. The rest must be people forgetting where they put things like Arthur said. You do that all the time.”

William crossed his arms. “Are you trying to imply something?” 

“No, not at all,” Merlin backtracked. “I do it plenty, too. I only mean to say it’s probably nothing, like Arthur said.”

“Maybe it is, but we still have to tell Uther something, even if we don’t believe a creature is to blame. If we get lucky, there’s a test we could perform to show that it’s not magic.”

“So what creature could it be?” Merlin asked, leaning forward on his elbows. “The book I was reading didn’t mention any creatures that turn invisible.”

“That’s because your book is a book of spells.” He pointed behind him. “Shelf 22.”

“Shelf 22, check all rows, got it.” 

Arthur stood before his father in the throne room. He was worn out from training, but a summons was a summons. Uther was sitting on the throne, leaning back, fingers drumming on the arms. Like every other time he stood before his father in the empty throne room, Arthur felt disappointment radiating towards him. The stern lines on his father’s face held no love, the heavy crown spoke only of duty. The tempo of the drumming fingers were an indication of anger. 

Arthur estimated his father was angry, but not yet furious and still a ways from taking charge himself. There was a chance he could escape this quickly. He waited until his father spoke. 

“Have you found the sorcerer yet?” Uther demanded. “I want to know who brought this curse to my kingdom.” It wasn’t quite a yell, but it boomed in the cavernous hall. 

“You said it was a creature, my lord,” Arthur said. “I have my servant searching the records for creatures of magic which could be responsible.”

Uther surged forward, though not to his feet yet. “And such a creature was summoned by a sorcerer to bring ruin upon this kingdom!” His fingers clenched on the arms of the throne. “I will not have my kingdom destroyed by a coward who dares not show his face.”

“What if the creature is not controlled?” Arthur asked. After all, plenty of beasts lived in the forest and were not controlled by any man. 

“Creatures of magic do not have the will to act alone. They are nothing more than dumb beasts changed by the magic of a sorcerer and enslaved to their will,” he spat. “Don’t you remember your lessons?”

He did, in fact, remember his tutor telling him how the magical beasts were abominations of evil, worse than evil spirits because at least those were balanced by the good spirits in the world. But the knights were Camelot’s only defense against the evil creatures of magic. Arthur also remembered a couple years later finding a book on creatures of myth left out in the library and asking William why it said that gryphons were born from eggs buried in the sand. He remembered the enlightening discussion that had followed on the nature of such creatures. 

“Search the town for the sorcerer,” his father continued. “I want this dealt with.” He sat back again and looked away from Arthur. 

“Yes, my lord,” Arthur replied with a respectful nod. He didn’t need to be verbally told that he was dismissed. The mannerism was clear. He’d assign some guards to keep a special look out for signs of sorcery while they were on patrol. And hope that Merlin’s research found something he could give his father. 

It didn’t take long to find a creature capable of invisibility magic in the large bestiary Merlin had grabbed first. He brought the book up to Arthur’s chambers. With a thud, he put the book down on the desk. “It might be a creature called a Fleet.”

“What does it look like?” Arthur asked without thinking. When no answer was forthcoming, he thought about what he had just asked and tried again. “How do you know?”

“Well for starters, this book says they’re invisible to mortal eyes and they are nearly human size, so if one were in the castle, it wouldn’t be big enough to cause structural damage.”

“Only human sized damage like you, Merlin.” Arthur teased as he stood from his chair to join Merlin in front of the book. “You can read this?”

Merlin stared at the pages and wondered if something was wrong before realising it wasn’t in English. “Oh right. Yes, William taught me how to read a few other languages since the library resources are from all over the world.”

“And this one is in?”

“French,” Merlin lied. 

Arthur flipped to the next page. “I know French, and that does not look like French.”

“It’s an archaic form. Partially mixed with a more native version of Panmag. But that’s not what you want to know.”

Arthur shook his head. He should stop being surprised by his servant, but he was anyways. “No. How would I kill it?”

“Unfortunately, this book doesn’t say. It’s like a primer for teaching.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair. “Then what was the purpose of you coming here?”

Merlin smartly snapped the book shut and lifted it into his arms. “I thought only that you might like a name to tell your father if he asks, even though we both doubt that there’s magic involved at all. I’m sorry for trying to help.” Merlin walked out the door, nose held high in the air.

“Fine, thank you, Merlin!” Arthur called. 

Merlin’s head poked back round the door frame with a wide grin. “See now. That wasn’t too hard.”


	17. Heard but not Seen - Part 2

All was normal until the pranks people reported became harder to dismiss. The moat was found dry, tunics were died Carleon blue rather than Camelot red, and every sewing needle in Gwen’s workshop was stuck into the ceiling. It was an unusual pincushion for sure. Merlin knew he wasn’t responsible for those tricks, so he went back to shelf 22 and the bestiary. 

This time, he knew the creature wasn’t a Fleet. They might make noises in the night, but a prankster they were not. This had to be a Mazikeen. Known tricksters, they never concentrated on one person alone and prefered places of high population density. 

According to the book, they were also impervious to fire. That was good to know. If he could prevent the knights from hurting the creature, that would go a long way. They could, however, be captured with a spell that was conveniently detailed in the book along with variations thereof and the theory behind it. With a satisfied nod, Merlin returned to Arthur’s chambers. 

“I've done more research and the Fleet can be defeated with fire,” he lied once more. 

“And how do I know if it's dead?” Arthur asked, grabbing his sword. “Will it become visible?”

“No. Unfortunately, the author notes that it can be difficult to tell if you’re successful. But if you hit it, you can see your weapon stick. It’s only invisible, not immaterial.”

“I’ll gather the knights then and tell them to prepare pitch arrows. With luck we can catch it causing mischief.” Arthur paused. “Did the book say anything about what it might be attracted to? Something we can lure it out with?”

“They like bodies of water, but they are more attracted to causing chaos.” That fact was actually in the book. It really wasn’t helpful. Regardless, they nodded and parted ways. 

He could try to lead Arthur away from the Mazikeen, but his best bet was to take care of the creature himself. He had seen a spell in his book that might help him. Hiding in an alcove behind a tapestry, Merlin whispered the spell to become invisible. He didn’t have a mirror in front of him, but he watched as his hands melted from sight. Then, he whispered another:  _ Indica mihi, exiverunt aurae et invisibilia creaturae magicae habēre scītis.  _

Strangely, the spell seemed to have an unexpected consequence. Although he couldn’t see his body, a golden glow emanated from the centre of his being. Since it came from himself, it was hard to see how far out it expanded. All he knew was that his vision was tinted gold. 

A mild distraction, but if it helped him find the Mazikeen then it was worth it. Creeping out from behind the tapestry, he headed to the marketplace. 

He found the creature alright. The violet aura was a beacon of light dancing through the people. Unfortunately, the chaos being caused by an invisible creature pushing through screaming crowds also alerted the guards. 

Merlin tried calling out to the Mazikeen with his mind, but if it heard, it gave no sign. Merlin instead ran after it, silently casting stunning spells and anything else he could think of to slow it down. 

Abruptly, his magic flared up in warning and only a hasty shield spell stopped a flaming arrow from slamming into his side. Because he wasn’t being careful either. 

“There are two of them!” he heard a knight shout. 

Merlin wanted to groan. He was a target now as well. Throwing caution to the wind, he used magic to create barriers ahead of the Mazikeen. The creature fought back, leaping onto rooftops and throwing fruit down at Merlin. The warlock retaliated with more spells and magical barriers to block its path. 

Slowly, he shepherded it out of the city and through a gate leading to the woods. Turning around, he caught one of the arrows with his magic, letting it twitch and pause mid flight before causing the fire to flare up and then drop to the ground. Hopefully the guards would think they killed it.

Now that Merlin didn’t have to worry about the crowds, he threw his arms out in front of him, creating full magical barriers to guide the creature into the nearest clearing. Then, despite finally feeling his energy start to wane, he sped up. 

He was nearly on the heels, or hooves?, it was invisible so he couldn't say, of the creature when it broke into the clearing. “ _ Anulus fieret fungos pullulare iubeo nunc!”  _ Merlin yelled.

With the creature trapped in the newly formed fairy ring, Merlin stopped running and dropped his barriers. He stumbled over to a large tree on the outside of the mushroom ring and leaned back against the bark, breathing hard. 

“I’ll admit,” Merlin said after he caught his breath. “I haven’t had a good run like that in a while. It was almost fun.”

Before his eyes, the Mazikeen faded into sight. It was standing at the edge of the circle. It was an odd looking beast. With cloven hooves and a humanesque torso, it might be mistaken for a satyr, except for the large black wings protruding from its shoulder blades. They were only as long as the creature’s arms, not unwieldy, folding in nicely. Merlin doubted they would be used for much other than gliding. Perhaps the waxy sheen would give shelter in the rain. 

“Not as fun as flipping every candle in the castle,” it replied. 

Merlin laughed hard, clutching his side. “I hadn’t heard that one. Oh, that is good.” He grinned. “Do you have a name?”

The creature frowned at him. “A name?”

“Yeah, what do others call you?”

Its wings fluttered slightly as it answered. “I haven’t been asked that in a long time. I’m called Fairfellow.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Fairfellow. I’m Merlin.” They exchanged nods. “I do have to ask you to leave Camelot though.”

“Why? There’s so much still left to do here,” he protested. 

“Camelot is not good for people with magic. Any hint of the arcane and people get killed, even if they weren’t using magic. It’s kinda my job to stop that and protect people.”

“But you are using magic.” Fairfellow sounded confused. 

“Well, there’s always got to be an exception to the rule.” Merlin shrugged. “And I don’t really have a choice. It’s my destiny.”

“So where will I go?”

Merlin thought for a moment. He didn’t want to tell Fairfellow to go somewhere else where magic was as harshly punished. But also telling it to stay away from the cities was unlikely. Unless - it was a risky plan, he really didn’t know the creature well. But the book mentioned that they were trustworthy, if mischievous. 

“Would you be willing to work for me?” Merlin asked slowly. 

Fairfellow cocked his head to the side. 

“I know a place where you could live and cause as much mischief as you want. I would only ask that you tell me important things that are happening in the city. Decisions made in the court or alliances signed. If they can’t see you, they can’t keep you out. Would you be willing to do that?”

Fairfellow thought for a moment. “You would not chase me out?” Merlin shook his head. “No one else would chase me out?”

“Alined only has one sorcerer in his employ and he’s not very good, nor very educated. I doubt he would even suspect you were there.”

“Then I will do this for you.”

Merlin spoke with Fairfellow a little longer after releasing him from the fairy ring. He arranged a meeting outside one of the tunnels to pass along a ring so that if Fairfellow ran into Aldrich or Gwaine, he could pass along information to them.

Merlin returned to the castle and to Arthur’s chambers to do general chores. Arthur was out, probably reporting to his father that they had killed the beast, but as ever, the chambers were a mess. He started by collecting the pieces of armor on the floor and moving it to the table. He straightened up the papers next and closed the ink bottle. 

A servant had returned the basket of clean laundry so he began putting the clothes away, munching on a pear absentmindedly, mentally composing a letter to Gwaine to tell him he had hired an invisible prankster. Though on second thought, maybe he shouldn’t tell Gwaine that Fairfellow enjoyed pulling pranks. The man got into enough trouble as is. 

Merlin heard the door open but thought nothing of it until he heard a blade being drawn. Turning, he saw Arthur with his sword aimed at Merlin’s left shoulder. 

“Guards!” he called. “Bring me a torch.” He addressed Merlin now. “I thought you might’ve run off when we killed your companion, but I guess you’re more stupid than I thought.”

Merlin glanced down at his arms. He couldn’t see them. Evidently, he was more stupid than he had thought as well.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed that he was still invisible. What kind of dolt did that? How could he have been so careless? In the heart of Camelot as well? What if the spell wore off? Then he’d be in trouble for sure. But now was not the time to dwell on that. He needed to run. He threw Arthur’s clothes onto his bed and ran out of the servant’s door, pear still in hand. 

He heard the guards running after him, armor clanking as they ran. They seemed lost, so he conjured up a simple flower and dropped a few petals to show his path back to the main corridors. He would need to trick them into thinking they killed the second creature. He needed to not actually get hurt. He looked back over his shoulder and saw that the guards had taken the wrong turn out of the passage. He needed to make sure they actually followed him.

With a sigh, he kicked the suit of armor next to him. Sure enough, the guards immediately turned. He tossed the pear up in the air twice before launching it at the guards. If they thought he was a magical creature who liked to play pranks, well, who was he to refuse the opportunity? 

The next six minutes were witness to five guards chasing an invisible warlock who continually hurled fruit, dropped tapestries, and made their armor quack. Merlin was particularly proud of the last one. He ought to make up more spells on the spot. With another whispered incantation, the stones he stepped on turned bright blue. That wasn’t what he was aiming for, but he did admit it made it easy for the guards to follow him, allowing Merlin to run ahead. 

He ran into the nearest hall that was empty. The musician’s hall. It was mostly a practice hall but occasionally there were small concerts, a way to showcase the work of students. He banished the spell that would trace his movements and sent a silent apology to the musicians. He tried to move as many instruments to the side of the room as he could before the guards came, but he wasn’t entirely successful. He was just moving some stringed instrument when Arthur burst into the room followed by guards with torches and crossbows. 

Merlin set down the instrument and moved away, but the instrument was still shot with an arrow. Master Armond was going to be furious. Arthur ordered the guards to fan out and shut the door behind them. Thinking fast, Merlin grabbed a set of sleigh bells with his magic and began levitating them around the room, shaking them all the while to create that obnoxious sound. 

More crossbow bolts were fired and Merlin crouched behind the pipe organ. From his vantage point it was hard to see the arrows and thus stop them in midair like he had done before. He moved the jingling bells to the centre of the room and set them spinning in a circle. Taking a deep breath, he slowed down time around him. 

In what looked like an exaggerated motion, Arthur shouted something at his guards and three bolts were loosed. Picturing where a creature might be standing, Merlin caught the bolts in the air and forced them to rotate at the same rate as the bells before bringing it all to a halt. He dropped the levitation spell on the bells and everything fell blissfully quiet with a clatter. 

For good measure, he modulated his voice quickly, enough for an inhuman shriek that echoed in the chamber. Then he let the arrows fall to the ground. That ought to do it.

Returning his view of time back to normal, he watched Arthur stride to the centre of the room and kick at thin air. He seemed to have expected to meet some resistance, but he caught his balance admirably. “It has been destroyed,” he said firmly. “Collect your arrows while I find out where my manservant is and why he didn’t notice the creature in my chambers. If I didn’t know better, I would say he was invisible as well.”

Merlin could only roll his eyes.


	18. Identity Theft - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The map has been updated.

Sir William walked around the library again, weaving down the rows and making sure every book was in its proper place and pushed gently against the back of the shelf. With his dust rag, he wiped the shelves that were already spotless. His candle was nearly a stub. 

He moved into his own modest chamber. But there was nothing more to do here. His clothes were in their proper place. His papers were organised and put away. His pile of correspondences were all answered. Even the request from Lord Atwater he’d been putting off for weeks. 

He looked at the clock in the library. It was well past midnight. 

Merlin still wasn’t back. 

William looked out the large window at the back of the library. During the day, he could see out to the woods on the west of the castle. It was from the table by the window that he had caught a glance of Merlin setting off to go meet with the druids earlier in the day. He had said it would be a short trip; he’d arranged to meet one of them halfway and talk while they gathered herbs. 

He should’ve been back by now.

Looking out of the window and seeing nothing but the reflection of his candle, William sighed and returned to his large armchair by the fireplace. It was still chilly at night and the fire was a gentle heat. He opened  _ The History of Bread in the Holy Roman Empire _ and wished for the roads to become dry enough for his latest shipment of texts from Rome to arrive. This book was drier than the biscuits it spoke of, but it was the only one left to read. 

He must’ve dozed off while reading since he awoke to gentle sunlight and the smell of ham and melting butter. Turning his head, he saw Merlin laying the plates out on the table.

“What time did you get back?” he asked.

Merlin started and turned around. “Sorry to wake you. I tried to be quiet. I thought you looked like you needed the sleep.”

“Don’t dodge the question, my boy.” William stood and rolled his shoulders, feeling the aches of having slept in the chair. “When did you get back?”

“Late, well, early morning I suppose. I’m sorry, the herbs were harder to find than expected and then I was waylaid by friends and the tavern. It won’t happen again.”

William scowled. “As long as you weren’t caught.” He never could stay mad at Merlin for long. “Curfew does exist for a reason, you know.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and started eating. 

“We will talk about this later,” William conceded as he joined his ward at the table. “Eat up, then you had better hurry up to wake up Arthur.”

Merlin smiled and grabbed a roll, swinging his legs around the bench. “I better be off then. I’ll finish this later.” And with that he was out the door, and William was left to shake his head, alone in the library once more. 

Arthur had unexpectedly woken up on his own that morning and was standing at the window when Merlin walked in. Surprisingly after he had knocked. But he had another servant with him who was carrying laundry while he held the breakfast tray. Maybe it was the other servant who had knocked. 

“Good morning, sire,” Merlin greeted as he laid out breakfast. “You’ve a busy schedule today so it’s good that you’re already awake.”

“No thanks to you. You’re late.” As Merlin was every morning. Arthur sat down at the table and started eating while he looked over his schedule. Training with the knights, lunch with his father, inspection of a new shipment of maces, meeting with the royal falconer to select a new hunting bird since his old one has passed, a council with the representatives of the guilds to review the current trade agreements and tariffs, then another training session, and ending the day with presenting the prize for some small competition between the squires. A busy day indeed. He ate more of his eggs.

He looked up, expecting to see Merlin munching on a stolen roll or sausage opposite him. He didn’t mind it, really. He knew the kitchen staff gave him extra for that very reason. Audrey was always trying to feed Merlin. 

However, Merlin was not in front of him. “Merlin?”

“Yes, sire?” He was putting away the laundry. And with no slamming of drawers while he did so. No mindless chatter either. It was unsettling.

“Are you feeling alright? You’re awfully quiet.”

“What would you like me to talk about, sire?”

Arthur shook his head. “Nevermind. I need you to fetch my armor for training and then make sure I have a set of formal clothes to wear for the council. And find out what this competition is with the squires. I expect I’ll have to give a short speech.” He tossed the paper back onto his table. “Otherwise just your normal chores today.”

“Of course, sire. I’ll go fetch your armor then.” Merlin slipped out through the door with the laundry basket in his arms. 

Arthur watched him leave, brow furrowed. There was something off about Merlin today. Perhaps just a sleepless night. Heaven knew some nights sleep just eluded you as it had him last night. He would puzzle out his servant later. 

After a hard training session, Sir Lancelot finished brushing down his horse and walked back to the armory to take care of his own needs. Unsurprisingly, Merlin was sitting on a bench, polishing Arthur’s breastplate. 

He greeted his friend, receiving a smile in return before he stepped around back to dunk his head in the barrel of cool water. The water felt like a balm on his head after the hot sweat had been pooling beneath his helmet. He piled his armor on the large table and gave each piece a quick wipedown before storing it on his rack. He knew they had training again in the evening so a full clean would have to wait. Sometimes, he wished he had a squire to do that sort of work for him, but looking at Merlin hunched over Arthur’s greaves reminded him that it was more noble to see to your own armor. 

Merlin straightened up and held up the metal to frown at his reflection. 

“Not liking your reflection this morning, Merlin?” Lancelot joked. 

Merlin brought the piece down to his lap abruptly, apparently having forgotten that the knight was there. “No, yes, it’s nothing. Just a stubborn dent.”

“Arthur won’t notice. And he’s likely to add a few more dents tonight anyway. Don’t worry too much about it.” It was too early in the day for worrying.

“You sure?” He bent over the stubborn piece and his fingers lightly followed the curve of the surface. “Someone cares a lot about this armor,” he muttered. 

“That someone is you,” Lancelot returned. “Come on, let me help you bring it back upstairs.”

“No, it’s alright,” Merlin protested. He loaded the armor into the laundry basket by his side and hefted it to rest on his hip. Only it didn’t quite rest the way he wanted and it slipped. Merlin’s fast reflexes caught it before everything could fall out, but Lancelot came forward and grabbed an armful of armor anyway. 

“Let me help you. I know how tired your arms can get after polishing.” Lancelot raised an eyebrow and smiled as Merlin opened his mouth to protest. “I outrank you so you have to listen.” 

Merlin immediately shut his mouth with a scowl and ducked his head. “Yes, sir knight.”

Lancelot shook his head at his friend’s antics and led the way out of the barracks. 

Unusually, Merlin didn’t walk at his side. He didn’t immediately launch into a story about some silly thing Arthur had done or start telling him about something he had learned in whatever book he was reading that week. 

He acted like a servant. 

It was unnerving. 

Lancelot tried to start a conversation, but he got only hums in response. When they entered Arthur’s chambers, he closed the door behind them and faced Merlin directly. 

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Is it Arthur? Is it one of the other knights?” Merlin shook his head to both questions. “It’s not something with the druids or magic?”

That got a response. Merlin turned and looked at him, face pale and eyes blown wide. “I don’t have magic!” His voice was high, almost breathless. “I don’t want anything to do with magic. It’s outlawed in Camelot.” He backed away from Lancelot. “Why would you suggest that? Are you trying to get me killed?”

Lancelot frowned. “No, I’m not. Did something happen to make you more paranoid?”

“No, I just don’t like talking about the m-word. Talk like that can get you killed around here.” He turned his back on Lancelot and started fluffing the pillows on the bed. 

Now, that was odd. True, Merlin was cautious about magic. He preferred to discuss it only in private. But Lancelot knew that there were ancient wards around the prince’s chamber so that those inside could talk without fear of being overheard. They were one of the very few wards that Uther hadn’t tried to destroy. Magic was evil unless it served him. 

“Okay sorry, I’ll stop.” Lancelot backed off. For now. “I remembered I have something I need to check on, but when you’re done here, I need help finding a book in the library. Could you meet me there?”

Merlin looked up from making the bed. “Of course.”

Lancelot walked out of the door and broke into a run. Something was  _ not  _ right. 

He burst into the library and hurried to Sir William’s desk. After a whispered talk, they both concluded that Merlin was most certainly not himself. Lancelot talked to the physician, Corinakus, and got a vial of extremely potent smelling salts to wake up a person in deep sleep. He said it was for a prank. Corinakus was skeptical, but handed it over anyway.

Then he rushed back to the library in time to meet Merlin, just barely catching his breath before Merlin walked in the doors. 

“What book did you need help finding?” he asked. His voice was meek, bland. This was more than Merlin having a bad day.

“Looking for one on the history of Listeness. Or was it Listeneise? But this library is a maze and I’m gonna need some help.”

“That it is,” Merlin replied. 

“William said the history section was somewhere down this way,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “but then he had to leave.”

Merlin nodded and walked past Lancelot down the indicated row. Lancelot actually had no idea if it was the history section or not. He still found a book alright. On the first shelf they looked at, no less. It was big, heavy, and, when swung right, the perfect book to knock an unsuspecting warlock straight into unconsciousness. 

Lancelot dropped the book in time to catch his friend before he hit the ground. 

“Bring him over to the big table,” William said, stepping out from behind a bookshelf. 

Lancelot laid Merlin on the table and handed the potion to William. “How is this going to help again?” he asked. 

“Some spells induce a trancelike state where you can be controlled by another person,” William explained. “A sudden loss in consciousness snaps the connection and then, if you wake the person up fast enough, the connection cannot be reformed.”

“And you think that’s what happened to Merlin?” It was odd seeing Merlin lying so still. Especially when Lancelot knew he was at fault. He’d really have to make it up to Merlin somehow. 

William shrugged his shoulders and let them fall slowly. “I don’t know. But I hope it is. That, at least, I know how to fix.” He uncorked the small bottle and waved it under his nose. Nothing happened. 

“Are you sure the physician didn’t dilute it too much?” William asked. 

Lancelot frowned. “Try again?” There really wasn’t anything else to suggest. 

The librarian leaned in again, but a quill from the desk flew over and slapped his hand instead. William and Lancelot looked at each other, then down at Merlin. But Merlin was still quite obviously out of it. The quill waved again in the air between them before flying to the desk and writing on a sheet of paper. 

Lancelot didn’t know what to say. Obviously, neither did William. His mouth was open, but he only shook his head. They walked over to read what was being written. 

“That’s not English,” Lancelot said, staring at the strange words. 

“The old language,” William said slowly. “It’s been a few years, but I ought to be able to decipher it.” The quill finished writing and waited for William to read it. He picked up another quill and made a couple notes on the page before reading it out. “It says this is Merlin.” The quill shook back and forth. Lancelot raised his eyebrow. “Sorry, it says this is Emrys. He was, sorry,  _ is _ being possessed by another person with magic. He has kept the other person from knowing he has magic for now, but it’s draining his own magic.”

“I thought Merlin was Emrys?” Lancelot queried.

The quill moved again, writing furiously. “He says Emrys is magic and Merlin is the jug. No, vessel. My translation isn’t the best but he seems to be making some comparison about jugs and rivers and oceans.”

The feather of the quill slumped over slightly before shaking itself and writing again. This time even Lancelot could tell what it was writing. 

“What is this a recipe for?”

“I’m not sure, “ William replied. “I would assume some sort of cure or a way to expel whoever is in control of Merlin’s body.”

The quill filled up the rest of the page and then flipped it over it to write a few more instructions on the back. It then moved down the page a little and wrote some more. The elegant print scrawled across the page and then suddenly stopped. The quill dropped to the desk, lively no more. 

A cough and a groan from the table told them that Merlin, or whoever was inside of Merlin, had woken up. 

“What happened?” he groaned, rubbing the back of his head. 

William hurried to his side. “You slipped on some loose sheets of paper on the ground and fell. I keep telling you to use paper weights. You know how they tend to fly when the doors open. Not to mention when you run through, creating a wind of your own. I’ve told you not to run in here.”

“I’ll be more careful of that in the future,” Merlin conceded. He twisted around to look at the clock. “I have to go! Arthur’ll be needing me soon.”

Merlin ran off, William yelling after him to take it easy. So much for not running.

Lancelot held out the parchment. He didn’t know what to make of it. Merlin was the expert on magic, but evidently talking to Merlin was out of the question. Who else did you go to when a quill was suddenly writing by itself and claiming to be both your friend but not your friend? “So will this work?”

William frowned over the parchment. “It will take nearly three days to brew. There are many ingredients to find. And he started to say something about an explosion but got cut off.”

“Should we try to use the potion again?”

William shook his head. “Best not. It sounds like he’s trying to lay low, and I don’t know how difficult that is. Best not to risk it until the other potion is complete. No, we just have to find a way to prepare it without anyone trying to throw us in the dungeon for witchcraft.”

“Goddess above!” Ketal swore as she hit her shoulder on the door frame for the hundredth time. None of the books warning about the dangers of possessing someone else’s body had warned about the simple shift in perspective. And gait. 

She’d always known Merlin had gangly legs, she’d seen him sometimes in the workshop when he was hiding from Arthur, but this was insane. How did he manage to not trip all the time? How did he run at all?

Of course, she remembered that this servant was known for being generally clumsy so maybe his long legs were to blame. 

However, possessing him wasn’t all bad. She could sit with her legs spread whenever she liked. She could eat a lot and not be told to watch her figure. (She wondered if the extra appetite was because she was a man, or if somehow her body needed to be fed, too.) She wasn’t scolded for running. Her breasts didn’t bounce when she did. 

Other bits of her body did move, but she tried to avoid thinking about that as often as possible. She wished she could’ve possessed another serving woman, but only Merlin had such unrestricted access to the prince. 

Not that it was helping at the moment. She had tried a slow acting poison on the chicken served to the Pendragons at lunch yesterday. And yet, they had both woken up. Something had neutralised the potion. 

This morning she had tried again, just in case the plates had been switched, but Arthur had still been beating all of the knights at training two hours later. 

She’d swapped one of the training blades for a sharp one, but the wielder never even got close to nicking the prince. 

She’d tried a different poison on his armor. The seller had assured her it would stick to any surface, but it had slid right off and not even the most powerful sticking charm she knew had been able to get it to stay. All it had done was make every particle of dust in the air fly to the armor just before Arthur came by to assign more chores. Cleaning the armor properly had been top of the list. 

She’d wanted to murder him right then and there, but her magic hadn’t exactly been acting reliably and she would probably have only ended up giving him a nosebleed and getting herself thrown in the dungeons. 

Perhaps if Merlin’s spirit would stop fighting her so much, she would have greater luck. She had known the man was stubborn, but she had assumed it was ridiculous to think that he would give her any trouble. She was a sorceress. A modest one stuck as a seamstress just trying to earn some money, but a sorceress nonetheless. Merlin was just a servant. 

And yet. She was still forced to devote some of her energy was to keeping his spirit from fighting. A perpetual war within her own body. 

Like puberty all over again. 

Looking around Arthur’s chambers, she considered her options. The bed sheets. If he slept on them, breathed in a potion from the pillow, then maybe then she could kill him. Especially if he slept shirtless; then some skin contact would increase the potency.

She stopped by the workshop to drop off a tunic of Arthur’s that needed to be mended and slipped one of her backup potions out of her own basket. It was risky to leave it in the castle where anyone could find it, but even she knew that it would be more strange to see Merlin visiting her small sleeping quarters in town every day. It’s not like they usually spoke.

It was actually good that Arthur’s tunics did need mending. Her original plan had involved sneaking back into the workshop after it was locked up for the evening, but her magic had been misbehaving. She had tried to unlock it the first night, but that had only made it worse. She had heard gossip about the door needing to be pulled open by two knights the next morning, and the steward was perplexed by the strawberry jam that had coated the frame. 

Ketal didn’t try much magic after that. It either didn’t work or wasn’t as powerful as it should be. 

But this plan ought to be foolproof. All the prince had to do was sleep. That was easy. No magic involved. What could go wrong? She had just finished coating the sheets when Arthur burst in through the door. 

“I’m going hunting,” he declared. “Ready everything. We leave in two hours.”

Ketal barely stopped her jaw from dropping. After all that hard work, he was leaving! Outrageous. 

“Well, hurry up,” Arthur snapped as he sat down at the edge of his bed. “I need food from the kitchens, my horse saddled, the maps packed...”

He was sitting on the bed. Maybe enough of the potion would do its work. It was highly potent. His trousers couldn’t be that thick. Ketal’s legs were cold despite it being May. Then again, royalty got thicker fabric so maybe the poison wouldn’t work. Blast. 

“...flint, you should know the list by now,” Arthur finished. “Get moving.”

Ketal bowed, narrowly remembering not to curtsey, and left. 

“And throw these sheets in the wash! They’re sticky,” Arthur called after her. 

At the very least, she hoped it would give him a bad cough.

When Arthur arrived in the courtyard two hours later, Ketal was armed with ten more ways to attempt regicide during the long hunting trip. Only to have them destroyed. 

“You aren’t coming this time, Merlin,” Arthur said. 

She stopped in her tracks. “Why not?” 

“William said he needs you. I didn’t ask why. You know how his lectures can be, and I wanted to get going before it got dark.”

Oh no. He probably knew something was wrong. He would be the one to know Merlin best. Maybe Merlin acted differently around him than he did with everyone else. Ketal had only watched him during the day when he was following in Arthur’s shadow; she didn’t actually want to invade his privacy that much. That being said, inhabiting his body was a pretty severe breach of privacy and she absolutely should’ve observed his habits more carefully before. 

With a shrug and a smile of insincere apology, Arthur swung himself into his saddle and rode off with the rest of his group. 

Maybe she could just avoid William. But just then she looked back at the steps to the citadel and saw William waiting for her and she groaned. He absolutely knew something was wrong. The next three days would not be fun ones. 

In the end, she ended up avoiding William’s close gaze by helping with the preparations for the spring festival. She would’ve been roped into helping anyway with Arthur gone, but she went out of her way to volunteer for everything. She helped wash the special dishes for the festival and air out the table clothes. She trimmed the candles and enjoyed her extra height that helped make the garlands easier to hang. 

At the moment she was helping to carry extra benches up from storage. It was hard work, maneuvering the long benches around corners and up stairs so she had been partnered with another serving boy about her current height. They didn’t speak too much unless it was figuring out angles, but when they were carrying up the third bench, he breached the silence. 

“Merlin? Have you seen Ketal lately?” he asked.

Ketal frowned to herself. He had been looking for her? For a second she didn’t know what to say. She stuttered slightly as she answered, “no, why?”

The boy looked down at his feet. “I was looking for her. I checked the workroom, but she wasn’t there and Gwen said she hasn’t seen her for a couple days either. I hope she’s not sick, but I don’t know where she lives.”

That really didn’t answer the question. She didn’t even know who this was. And why would he be asking Merlin where she was? Merlin hardly knew her either. He certainly didn’t know where she lived. “Why are you looking for her?”

“I was just thinking about the festival and you know - or maybe you don’t know since you’re always serving Prince Arthur - but there’s a dance in the lower town and everyone goes if they aren’t busy.”

Ketal nodded. She had been once. But she didn’t have many friends and so she had mostly watched other people having fun. She had stopped going after that year. 

“I wanted to ask her to the dance. As my partner.”

What? “Really?” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. But really? A date to a dance? She hadn’t seen that coming. But she didn’t even know him so how did he know her? Or was it a pity date? She hoped not. That was even worse.

“Yesh, well I just thought maybe.” He shrugged. “She’s cute and I’ve seen her in the workshop sometimes bent over her work and her forehead goes all wrinkly when she concentrates and I don’t know. I wanna ask and maybe we can talk or something.”

Ketal didn’t know what to say. “I’m sure you’ll find her soon. Lift up your end for this corner,” she said.

“Good morning, Merlin.” Percival greeted him when he saw Merlin in the hall. 

“Morning,” he grunted and continued walking past him.

Percival was dumbfounded. He had been hoping to talk to his friend about a gift for a lady he had been getting to know. He was unfamiliar with the customs of Camelot, but other guards had been chattering about gifts they were getting for their women. There was lots of talk about flowers ordered from a popular market stall, but that didn’t seem good enough for Sarah. 

He wished he could afford a rich purple dress or even one of blue to bring out her eyes. Barring that, a necklace of onyx to compliment her hair would be perfect. Yet both items were far above his budget. 

But he had passed a small stall while on patrol that sold woodworkings. He had returned later and been captivated by some of the small boxes. Practical, elegant, and within his price range. That only meant that he appreciated it, though. He didn’t know Sarah well enough yet to know what she would like. 

Percival had hoped that Merlin knew her enough to know. Sure, she spent most of her time in the kitchens, but Merlin was friends with nearly all the servants. He looked over his shoulder, staring at the empty hallway, the sounds of Merlin’s footsteps already lost in the clamor of everyone else. 

“Why so glum, Perce?” Lancelot’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. He turned back to face his friend.

“It’s nothing.”

Lancelot made that face that Percival hated. The one that saw through any excuse he gave to hide behind his walls. The one that said Lancelot wouldn’t leave until he got the truth out of his friend. 

“Merlin brushed me off,” he admitted. “I told you it is nothing.”

Lancelot’s face took on a determined look, and he pulled Percival to the wall. “He hasn’t been himself lately,” he whispered. “I can’t tell you much more than that but don’t take offense.”

“What’s wrong? Did Arthur and him have a fight? Is he sick?”

“Something both less serious but also worse.” 

Well, that was clear as mud.

“Just trust me that William and I are working on it.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Percival asked. Merlin and Lancelot had both helped him so much since he came to Camelot, he would jump at the chance to help them in return.

Lancelot glanced up and down the hallway again. “I don’t want to make you worry overmuch, and I know this won’t make sense, but if you see him doing anything that might endanger Arthur’s life, don’t be afraid to knock him out and carry him to the library.”

Arthur was due back in two hours. Give or take his ability to decide when he’d had enough hunting. Ketal wasn’t naturally an outdoors-y type, but the long winter had made her antsy as well. The prince must be feeling it much worse. 

Winter had also given her plenty of time to plan her destruction of the ruling family. Her best friend, Aly, had passed away early in the winter due to illness, and she had been too scared to use her own magic to heal her. All Uther’s fault, of course. 

At the time, the physician had looked her over and declared her condition critical. Aly had been visited by most of the kitchen staff, bringing over leftover food since she was too sick to leave bed. Ketal had lived there more than at her own house for a month. Too many people knew her condition was hopeless with mundane medicine.

Maybe before the purge she could’ve gone to a healer. She knew there were still some people outside of Camelot who sold healing potions enriched with magic, but with the snow up to her knees, it prevented anyone from travelling without horses. And even if she had been able to heal Aly, she would have known it was done with magic and their friendship would have fallen apart. It was a death sentence to even be acquaintances with a sorcerer. 

It was time to fight back. She would fight so that no one else had to watch their best friend slowly wither and die when magic could so easily bring them back. She would bring their reign to a drawn out end, just like they had destroyed the magical community. She would show Camelot that magic couldn’t be suppressed. 

Many people went for Uther, aiming for the more powerful Pendragon or the one who had personally started the plague of hatred and persecution. But it was her generation that aimed for the prince. 

She wanted to make him suffer. She remembered seeing how lost the king had seemed the various times Arthur had been on the brink of death. Any little thing would set him off; anyone could be banished or beheaded for the smallest inconvenience. Everyone had been walking around on eggshells. Even the guards had hesitated to report skirmishes on the borders.

A perfect time to invade, really. There had to be a kingdom watching closely, perhaps Nottingham, or Corvon. And what was spring if not the prime time for invasions?

The roads were clear, travel was possible, and everyone and their brother’s army were ready to start lopping off heads. 

But nothing had been going smoothly. There was no sign of an angry king or even a minor lord with ideas above his status. Her magic and her potions had failed her so far in trying to kill the prince. 

However, Uther wasn’t very fast anymore. She remembered that from a couple years ago when the Pendragons had fought each other in the arena. Everyone could see that Arthur let his father win. Maybe she could kill him while he slept. It wouldn’t give him the agony of seeing his son die, but Arthur would experience the agony. And he was still an untested ruler. The potential for ruin was still present. 

Ketal finished tidying Arthur’s rooms and then left to watch from the parapets. 

Lancelot met her partway. “Merlin, I need your opinion.”

Ketal bit back a sigh. For some reason Merlin was friends with this knight. She didn’t understand why any servant would want to be friends with a knight, let alone why a knight would be friends with a servant. “What about?” She tried to sound pleasant, but it definitely came out bitter.

Lancelot ignored the tone. “A perfume for a friend. A spring gift. Or I was thinking about it, but then I was punched in the nose in training last week and now that the bottle arrived, I can’t smell it.”

Despite everything, Ketal couldn’t help the smile. At least she could save some poor girl the trouble of being stuck with a ridiculous perfume. “Let me smell it.” Goddess knows boys were always gifting workshop girls with awful smelling perfumes.

Lancelot uncorked a small bottle and she leant in, taking a deep breath. She pulled back immediately. “Sorry, but that smells more like something the physician would give. What did the merchant say it was?”

“Garden violet. High concentration though.” Lancelot said something else, but by then, Ketal had blacked out. She only barely felt the his arms catch her before she was out completely.


	19. Identity Theft - Part 2

Lancelot met William on the stairs to descend into the caves below the castle. William held a torch while the Lancelot carried Merlin over his shoulder. They followed the stairs down and around two corners when torches on the wall flared up on their own and lit the way ahead. 

“This had better work,” Lancelot said. “It’s been exhausting keeping at eye on Merlin while still doing training.”

“Don’t tell Merlin that,” William replied. “He’ll remind you that he protects all of Camelot every day while still looking after Arthur and doing an impossible list of chores.”

Yeah, that was true. He already respected his friend, but it was a downright miracle that Merlin didn’t collapse at the end of every day from exhaustion. Lancelot would be willing to bet that if the knights tried to race Merlin on an endurance run, he would outlast all of them. And still have the audacity to tease them.

Still, he should be grateful that whoever was possessing Merlin didn’t have his friend’s aptitude for secrecy. Merlin had been easier to follow this week than normal. He never looked over his shoulder and he walked past some of the easy hiding places that Merlin had actually shown to Lancelot. Not to mention, these days if Merlin really wanted to hide, he could use his magic to turn himself invisible. Instead, Lancelot and William had been just following Merlin around and swapping out the bottles of poison with harmless liquids and checking Arthur’s room daily for weapons. 

Soon, the tunnel opened up and they were treated to a view of the cave. They stopped in their tracks, awed. Lancelot had known there was a cave under here where the dragon had been held, so logically it had to be large, but the floating lights truly magnified the expanse of the space. 

Still gazing around in amazement, they followed the wide walkway across the chasm to what appeared to be Merlin’s office. There were rough shelves carved into the wall with different books and a cot against the back wall. A crooked table was pushed against the back wall as well, papers scattered over the surface. 

“Lay him down here,” William instructed. Then, he took the potion that they had finally finished out of his pocket. They were hoping that it would work. Neither William nor Lancelot were skilled at brewing potions based on instructions left in the Old Language. Or any potions for that matter.

Exchanging hopeful glances, William poured the potion down Merlin’s throat. He watched as Merlin reflexively swallowed. He stepped back.

For a tense second, nothing happened. 

Then everything happened. 

Merlin coughed, sounding like a bug had flown into his mouth by surprise. 

An invisible wave of magic burst outwards, sending William and Lancelot stumbling back as if a physical force had shoved them. That must be the explosion Emrys tried to warn them about. Good thing they weren’t in the library.

The glowing orbs flared bright like miniature suns and they were forced to cover their eyes with their arms until they dimmed again. 

Lancelot stood, blinking the spots from his eyes, only to see a new type of light filling the cavern. Bright glittering streams of golden magic, for that was the only thing it could be, swirled around the cavern. It flew through the air, brushing over the walls and arching from ledge to ledge before swooping low to play in the river. In its wake, the cave looked less like a dingy cavern of rock and more like a polished grand hall. 

Pillars of stone were rounded off into doric columns; a new walkway spiraled around the walls; new rooms were being carved out of the wall as the light flew past. Even in Merlin’s own modest office, the bookshelves became more decorative and the cot Merlin was lying on became a bed to rival Arthur’s. It was beautiful. Lancelot actually found himself blinking back tears. He could feel the overwhelming magic of Merlin and it felt like an over pouring of bliss. 

Still watching new bridges arching over the river below, Lancelot was surprised by a voice behind him. 

“Who dragged me to the tavern, and what did I have?”

William and Lancelot spun in unison. William took a step closer. “Merlin! My boy is it really you?”

“Well, since there are two bodies in this incredibly comfortable bed, I would say yes.”

William and Lancelot smiled. There was no doubt that this was all Merlin. 

They looked closer at the body laying next to Merlin. To the surprise of the knights, it was a woman. Merlin had been able to sense her discomfort in his body, but until now, he hadn’t known who was to blame. 

“Oh, Ketal,” Merlin sighed. “Gwen is going to hate me for this.” He stood from the bed and stretched. 

“For what?” Lancelot asked. 

Merlin turned. “I'm really grateful for you getting me out of that situation, but there’s something I need to do and I can't let her see either of you.” He walked a little farther out of his office and took a quick look at the improvements to the cavern. “I need you to hide in one of those rooms. Just stay out of sight.”

William opened his mouth to ask Merlin more questions, but Merlin ushered him away. Reluctantly, he and Lancelot retreated to a side room. 

The extra energy burst from keeping his magic contained for so long was still powerful, though not as explosive as it had been. Merlin was thankful that a good amount of the energy had been able to be redirected into refurbishing, but he could still feel it bubbling just below the surface, needing to be used. He figured he might as well take advantage of his extra power. He couldn’t let Ketal stay in Camelot. Not when she wanted to kill Arthur. But he couldn’t let her know that he had magic. Not when he had spent all that energy hiding it from her. He couldn’t have her travel elsewhere and tell everyone that Arthur’s servant was a sorcerer. Not to mention, she had been inside of him. He wanted her gone.

He’d have to intimidate her into staying away. She wouldn’t respect Arthur’s decision or even Uther, but with luck, she’d respect Emrys. He didn’t like to think about it, but that name had power outside of the druids. He had found books that mentioned Emrys as having standing above even the High Priests. He certainly didn’t know any rituals that he assumed the Priests knew, but then again, he didn’t think there were any Priests left after the purge. But she didn’t have to know that he didn’t know anything. She just needed to believe that he would know if she came back into Camelot.

Glancing towards the bed, he could see Ketal beginning to stir. No time like the present. He chanted his disguise spell and added in the part to alter his vocal chords as well, praying it would work right on the first try. 

“Testing?” A voice came out that was his own, yet not. It was something more. It reverberated off the walls and seemed to emanate from all around. Perfect. 

Walking to the ledge, he pulled up a scoop of water and suspended it to use as a full-length mirror. 

From head to toe, he looked different. Grey hair hung to his shoulder, his ears had a slight point, and his eyes were pure gold. He wore a deep purple robe with silver embroidery that brushed at his ankles. But something was missing. 

He held out his arm and his stolen Sidhe staff flew to him. Excellent. 

He stood at the side of the bed and used a nudge of magic to fully wake Ketal. 

Ketal came to awareness slowly. She thought she heard voices, but then they stopped and she could only really focus on the headache and hunger she felt. 

Then, all at once, the aching cleared and she blinked her eyes open. Staring at the ceiling, she was at a loss to where she was. She looked to be somewhere with smooth rock ceilings, but yet, she was in a bed as soft as feathers. 

She raised herself on one arm and looked around. She was immediately arrested by the sight of someone standing, no, looming over her. 

“Good, you are awake,” the man said. 

The voice sounded like thunder. It rolled deep and resounded in her bones. She wondered if he was a god. 

“Who are you?” she asked timidly, sitting up properly. She felt a slight annoyance that she was back in her own body and had to be mindful of her skirt. She was wearing the same clothes she had been wearing when she caught Merlin off guard in the woods. Actually she was glad she had clothes on at all. The spell hadn’t exactly been clear about what would happen when the spell was ended. 

“My name is not important. What you did is what I wish to discuss.”

“What I did?” She didn’t know what he was referring to. She had a guess, but she wasn’t going to incriminate herself.

“Yes. Your possession of the serving boy. That is very complex magic and should not be used for such foolish purposes. A myriad of things might have gone wrong. You are incredibly lucky both selves were separated completely.”

“It wasn't a foolish purpose!” she protested, then immediately clamped a hand over her mouth. Arguing with an incredibly powerful being was never smart. 

He snorted and leaned more heavily on his staff. “And yet here, not even a minute into our acquaintance, you have already demonstrated your impulsive behaviour.”

Ketal looked down in shame. 

“But I shall humour you. Why was this not a foolish decision? What were you hoping to achieve?” He raised an eyebrow, suggesting that he was not expecting to be impressed with anything he heard. 

“I was going to end the Pendragon tyranny.” Ketal stood, fists balled at her side. She wanted to at least stand tall while she argued. It made her feel more powerful than sitting on a bed like a child. “With his son gone, the king would be a wreck,” she scoffed dismissively. “He would know how it feels to lose those close to him and be helpless to save them. The king cannot lead an army when he’s grieving. Other kingdoms would invade; other sorcerers like us would be free to take over. Magic would be free again!” She put her fist over her heart. “I would be free.” She looked pointedly at the staff in his hand. “You would be free again.”

“Perhaps you are right, maybe it would set us free, but that is not the way to achieve that. The Pendragons are under my protection. Arthur especially.” 

What? Ketal couldn’t believe what she was hearing. A magic user, as powerful as him, was protecting the Pendragons? The rulers who were repressing their kind? She couldn’t draw together the words to express herself.

“I see your disbelief. I, too, felt that disbelief at first. But there is more going on in Camelot than you are aware of. Perhaps you have heard the prophecies, perhaps you have not. But I serve the Once and Future King.”

She distantly remembered hearing the name in bedtime stories told by her father.

“The one who will bring magic back to this land. The one who will unite all Albion under one banner. A banner of peace.”

It was coming back to her know. The king and the sorcerer by his side. 

“And you were going to destroy all that. Bring ruin to this shining city.” 

But not just any sorcerer, the stories said he would be the most powerful warlock ever.

“Usher in armies and death. Murder in cold blood, fueled by revenge. So tell me,” he paused. His form began to glow with a golden light. It was only another representation of the power he wielded. The power Emrys wielded. 

For that is who she now realised this was. The one to stand with the Once and Future King. And although he was not a deity, he was as good as. 

“Why should I spare your life?”


	20. Identity Theft - Part 3

Merlin listened as Ketal tried to plead for him to spare her life. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying this a little. He had no intention of killing her, no, but he was furious that she had taken control of his body for four days. And a little bit scared, but he was in denial about that.

It had been painful. He had been barely aware but fighting every second he could to stop her. Yet, some instinct had told him to keep his magic secret. Obviously she had her own magic; there was no need to lend her destructive magic extra strength. 

So it was good to see her on her knees, begging for forgiveness, begging him to give her a second chance. 

But then he blinked and decided he had enough. It wasn’t hard to guess what had driven her to such extremes, nor was it the first time he had seen it happen. People had come to the physician late at night, begging for magic potions to save a loved one and it had hurt Merlin to walk away. Corinakus couldn’t help them, he didn’t have magic, but Merlin did. He’d learned not to walk that hallway late at night. As annoyed as he was, she didn’t deserve capital punishment for the circumstances forced upon her. “Get up.”

Ketal ceased her pleading and shakily pushed herself to her feet. 

“You said you would do anything?” 

She nodded vigorously.

At least she could still be useful. “You have until sunset tomorrow to leave Camelot. Pack your things, settle any debts and last tasks. Then travel and spread this message: the days of the Once and Future King are near. And Camelot is under  _ my _ protection. Others would do well to keep that in mind next time they try to attack.” Merlin caught her gaze and held it. “Spread the word.”

After a moment, she nodded.

“Now go. Take the path down there.” Merlin indicated the long path that lead to the woods. Her lips trembled, perhaps fighting to hold back an argument, but she pressed them firmly together and dropped into a low curtsey. She hurried off, not once looking back as Merlin watched. It was risky that he was showing her the way out of his cavern, and thus a secret entrance into the castle, but he trusted his spells of concealment. It was better than risking someone see her ascending from his cavern into the castle main. 

Speaking of, how did Lancelot and William get him down here? Some memories were coming back, like someone whispering the highlights of what he missed. It was weird. He glanced down; Ketal was far enough along. 

Just to be sure, Merlin removed the spell of amplification. “You guys can come out now,” he called. 

They walked out, and William nearly walked into Lancelot, who had stopped in his tracks, staring at Merlin. His mouth was agape, seemingly not believing that it really was him. “Merlin?” 

Maybe this was a better disguise than his other ones had been. “Yes?”

William pushed past the other man. “You’ll get used to it, son,” he said. “Ever since he found the book on disguises, I’ve learned to recognise him in a wide variety of appearances.” He stopped up close to Merlin. “It’s always the eyes that give him away.”

Merlin made a noise of disbelief as he walked away. “My eyes are gold! How can you say my eyes gave it away this time?”

“Because if anything, these eyes look like the true you. More like the blue is just to hide the gold that’s always there.” He stood in front of the dormant portal in Merlin’s office. “We need to have a talk, but can you use some of your powers to let us use your portal?”

Merlin nodded, and his disguise melted away as he walked over, motioning for Lancelot to join them. He thought for a moment, figuring out the right words to add an exception to the family lock his father had placed on the mirror. Then he placed both hands on the wall and chanted a long spell. The portal glowed purple around the edge and settled into a view of the library. No one was in view. 

“It’s safe to cross through,” Merlin said, one hand staying on the wall. “Just pass quickly, this is difficult to maintain.”

Their trust humbled Merlin as he watched them both step through a wall without any hesitation. He had been freaked out when he had accidentally stumbled through the mirror in the library to the hidden room. 

Once they were both through, Merlin dropped the spell and sank down onto the bed. So much nicer than the one in the library. Looking around the cave, he had to admit that the renovations would be much appreciated if his network continued to grow. There were plenty of rooms to house druids who had traveled from far away and still keep Gwaine and his drinking far away from them. The only thing he lacked was a kitchen. Otherwise, he felt like he could run an inn. He gave a satisfied nod and then he stepped through the portal. 

Lancelot had left, but William was waiting for him, his arms crossed. “Let’s talk in your room.”

Merlin nodded, started to follow, only to be struck with another blocked memory. “Not right now; I have to go!” He ran for Arthur’s chambers. He didn’t know how long they had been in the cavern, but Arthur was probably back now, and the sheets still had poison spread on them. And Arthur was in the habit of taking brief naps after returning from a hunting trip. 

Merlin burst into Arthur’s chambers to find Arthur sitting on his bedsheets and taking off his riding boots.

“Ah, Merlin, there you are. I need you to—”

“Don’t sit on the bed!” Merlin exclaimed. Arthur cocked his head to the side, but Merlin just grabbed his arms and pulled him up before ripping the sheets off the bed. 

“ _ Mer _ lin, what is this all about?”

“Someone pulled a prank on laundry and mixed the soap with an itching powder. It was meant to only affect one of the knights, but the mixture was too strong and now they fear everyone’s sheets have it.” He stuffed the sheets in the basket and turned to the chest of drawers. “I know how you are after hunting trips, and I don’t think you’ll want to be itching all over for the next three days.”

Arthur took a step back as Merlin made the bed with the spare set of sheets. “Thank you. Will my trousers be itchy too?” 

Merlin shrugged. “Throw them in the basket anyway.” He’d double check the spread of the poison.

When Merlin was through, Arthur sat back on his bed, back propped up against the pillows. Merlin watched him out of the corner of his eye as he tidied up in the room. There wasn’t much to do. He had many complaints about Ketal possessing him and taking control of his body, but at least she had kept up with his usual chores. The clothes in the drawer were actually folded neater than Merlin usually did.

However, he hadn’t really been present for the past few days and he had missed his friend. Another glance at Arthur showed that he had no intention of sleeping. Perhaps he had missed Merlin as well. 

“Do you remember the first hunting trip you went on, Merlin?” Arthur suddenly asked. 

Merlin looked up from organising reports. “Unfortunately. You insisted that I carry both the stags on my poor horse and the horse was found to have a damaged leg the next day. Not to mention I could hardly walk due to the lower back pain the next day.” That had not been a good week.

Arthur grinned. “I think I teased you for acting like an old lady.”

“You stole a cane from Lord Eldrian and told me to use it.”

Arthur laughed. “I still can’t believe you hid behind my door and hit me with it when I came in.”

“Well,” Merlin’s smile grew wider and he leaned forward across the desk. “You did tell me to use it. You didn’t specify how I was to use it.”

“But what servant would assault the crown prince?”

“The kind that knows the crown prince is an arrogant prat who needs to be told to pay attention to people other than himself. People below his own status.”

Arthur’s face grew serious. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you for doing that for me. For showing me how to be a better leader of Camelot. I think I’ve always known the type of king I wished to be, but you’ve shown me how to achieve my dream.”

“It’s my honour. Someday, everyone else will be able to see what I see in you already.”


	21. Gift from the Shadows - Part 1

Morgan le Fay always had her ear to the ground. Not literally of course, that would be dirty, but she had her own network of spies in Avalon that kept her abreast of the rumour mill. And there was a lot in the mill. It seemed like every other week someone was being challenged to a duel to the death or accusing a longtime friend of betrayal. And that was the general populace. The members of the Unseelie Court were worse. She should know, she was one of them. She had fought tooth and nail to claim the throne and she wasn’t about to let some low level backstabber knock her off. The loyalty they all swore meant nothing. She could not turn her back for one minute. 

Which is where rumors came in handy. She had ample warning time to collect the necessary blackmail and stave off disasters. It had served her well in the past, but this was one rumor that might be best dealt with directly. The rumour that Merlin was plotting to overthrow her throne. 

She was surprised at first. Merlin had always struck her as someone who would belong in the Seelie Court. After all, he kept talking about fair rules and being kind to others. But maybe the Enchanter was never going to give up his seat of power. He didn’t have to fight as hard. His people were loyal. No matter. She had more power on the ground. And she did not want to lose that power. 

Maybe she was worrying too much. Her position should be safe for a while. Merlin was too busy pandering to that mortal prince to properly devote time to the intricacies of court. 

But as the spring grew into summer, she felt the dread growing once more. A message was sweeping across the mortal realm and even into Avalon. Emrys was publicly declaring his support for and protection of Arthur Pendragon as the Once and Future King. 

Many in the Shadow Court were interpreting this to mean that Merlin was ready to lead them. He was embracing his role as Emrys, the leader of the magical community. Sure the legends were varied, but they all agreed that he was powerful. Powerful enough to take her throne? She and Merlin were tentative allies at best. Maybe it was a sign that he was ready to take control of the Shadow Court. Maybe he wanted to move things along, try a different angle to force magic back out of hiding. With command of half of Avalon, he could have that power. Perhaps this message, this earworm, was his declaration of intent. Outright challenges weren’t the usual method after all. Well, there was only one way to ensure her reign continued. Walking over to her scrying mirror, she asked it to locate Merlin. He was in the servant’s bathing quarters, washing himself off after being in the stables judging by the mess. Perfect.

She closed her eyes and leapt, feeling the squeeze of direct travel across many leagues trying to pull her apart. “So, is Emrys’s staff as big as the legends say?”

Merlin nearly leapt out of his skin. He dropped the bucket of water and snatched the nearest towel to cover himself. He glared at her, gold sparking in his eyes. “I’ve half a mind to hex you for that,” he growled. 

Morgan leant against the opposite wall and folded her arms. She knew he was mostly joking, though in that moment, she could see his future as a leader to be wary of. “So trying to oust me from my seat of power is not enough? You wish to hex me as well?”

Merlin frowned at her before stepping fully out of the shallow bath. He must have just been rinsing an extra time. “Oust you?” He walked behind the dressing screen.

“Yes, don’t deny it, you want my position as the head of the Unseelie.”

Merlin leaned to the side to stare at her, eyebrows raised. “The Unseelies? Those are the ones who fight all the time, right? Why would I want to lead them?” He finished getting dressed. “That sounds like a disaster.”

Morgan kept her face blank. He certainly wasn’t familiar with the Court. Or maybe he was intimately familiar. There  _ was  _ a lot of squabbling. “Maybe you want the power. You would be able to bring about the golden age without waiting around for Arthur to mature.”

Fully dressed, Merlin hung his magically dry towel on the rack and confronted her. He stood opposite her and rested one bare foot on the wall behind him, still standing straight despite the relaxed pose. “I don’t know where you got the idea that I want more power, but you’re mistaken.” He shook his head and a breath of a laugh escaped him. “I can barely juggle trying to serve both Arthur and the Steward while still receiving lessons from the druids. Not to mention the occasional lessons from both Corinakus and William.” He threw his hands up. “I hardly have time to sleep! I’m not about to try to run a court on top of that. Arthur already makes me attend the council sessions here. I don’t want to see any more of that than I have to.” His arms hung relaxed at his side, just the hint of a threat in his posture.

Morgan watched his face for any hint of trickery. But he did seem honestly repulsed by the idea of leading the Court. She shouldn’t have let herself become so worried by the rumours. The Court plotted all the time; if every one of their plots was fruitful, there would be a new leader every month. 

Which meant one thing. Her shoulders dropped ever so slightly. She looked away from his fierce eyes, took a deep breath, then met them once more. 

“I need your help.”

He is standing in front of a watch tower. It’s sharp sides are imposing against the dark red sky. Clouds roll in, thunder rumbles, and a bolt of lightning strikes the tower. In the flash of light the tower bursts apart, stone flying apart and shattering into dust. When the light fades, he sees that the grand tower is now little more than ruins. The staircase is exposed at the top and there is no roof. The glass in the windows is nowhere to be seen. 

In front of the tower, a man now stands. For a second, they make eye contact. He is tall, a warrior born and bred. He has a silver armband. The warrior fights off enemies unseen, a golden spear in his hands. Every thrust is echoed by thunder. As he slams the butt of the spear into the ground, the earth trembles.

The man looks back at him and then throws the spear at the tower. 

The man vanishes. The spear soars through the walls.

He woke up.

Merlin caught Arthur off guard when he asked if they would be going on a trip that day. 

“Yeah,” he frowned.  “How did you know?” Arthur asked. 

Merlin shrugged. “Just a funny feeling. I already told the kitchens to get food ready.” He poured Arthur some water and moved on to grabbing clothes.

“Good.” Arthur was silent as he slowly got out of bed and walked behind the dressing screen. “I had a strange dream last night. Like a holy quest being given.” He proceeded to tell Merlin about the strange dream he had last night. 

Merlin nodded along absently. He knew what the dream was; he had sent it to Arthur. Though it was good to know it had worked. Apparently Arthur’s own mind had taken control of it at some point though. He hadn’t imagined a huge battle.

“Do you know what this spear might be?” Arthur asked when he was through explaining. “Or who the warrior was who wielded it?”

Merlin had been waiting for this. “It sounds like the spear of  Dnangerfield, the feared warrior of the river tribes in the north.”

Arthur motioned with his fork for Merlin to continue. Merlin smirked into the blankets as he made the bed. 

“His people were a wild type, surrounded by other wild types. It was Dnangerfield who forged some of the first trade routes of the far north, creating, if not peace, a season of truce for the tribes. A safety for merchants to benefit both groups. 

“Not every tribe was as open to the idea of trade and he used his great spear to bring them into submission.” He finished making the bed and joined Arthur at the table. 

“What’s the spear called?” Arthur asked. “Surely a weapon like that has a name.”

“Rhongomiant.” The name rolled off of Merlin’s tongue but tripped off of Arthur’s. “No. It’s Rhon-go-mi-ant,” Merlin said slowly. 

Arthur tried again, but still, it was jumbled. “I’ll call it Ron.”

Merlin’s hand stilled, then set the water pitcher back down. “Just as long as you don’t use that nickname where the spear can hear you,” he warned, grabbing a roll. It was so easy to lead Arthur on, he almost felt bad. 

“Spears don’t have ears.”

There was a spear of legend, yes, but its name was Justice. Much easier to say. And Dnagerfield was a real warrior, he had to keep that the same just in case Arthur had learned about past heroes of Albion. 

“No, but this is a mystical spear from the legends. Some variations on the legend do suggest that Dnagerfield’s spirit resides within the spear, waiting for a worthy warrior to lift it once more. Others say there is no spirit inside it, but it has been blessed by so many powerful wizards over the ages that it’s nearly sentient. Regardless of which is correct, I wouldn’t risk using anything but its proper name.”

Every other detail was just Merlin stringing Arthur along to get him to decide to go on a quest. It was much easier to convince Arthur to leave the city than to travel to the portal himself and have to make excuses to Arthur. Besides, it was summer anyway and a good time for a trip.

“How do you know so much about this legend?” Arthur asked. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“I read a book.” At Arthur’s exasperated look, he continued. “It probably wasn’t part of your education. I’m sure your tutors focused on topics that would be immediately useful to you as a future king of Camelot. My reading has not been similarly limited.”

Arthur scowled. “And do you know what tower this might be, since you are so well read?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I can get you a map within the hour.”

Arthur leaned back and took another bite of his apple. “Alright. I’ll talk to my father. I’m sure he’ll approve of this quest. You find me that map and prepare the horses and gather supplies.”

“Just the two of us?” Merlin asked. “The prince going out to prove himself?” he added for extra measure.

Arthur nodded. “Yes. That’s how I’ll present it to my father. You’re only coming to do the cooking.” Merlin met his eyes and they both smiled. It was a lie they had sold many times to the king. 

“Naturally.” Merlin stood to give an exaggerated bow. “After all, there’s no way a servant could possibly be good at finding a spear in a dusty castle.”

Arthur grinned and Merlin left with the laundry. Soon enough they were on the road to the watchtower, the spear, and the portal to Avalon. 

They rode south at a steady pace, not feeling particularly rushed in the heat. They made it past the surrounding villages and then stuck close to the river as it carved through the forest of Balor. It kept them on track when they reached the thick forest and had to dismount and lead their horses along the river bank. They paused for food in the high heat of noon. Even the trees couldn’t stop the oppressive humidity still lingering from the storms two days ago. 

They continued to ride through to sunset before Arthur spotted a large clearing and a small break in the trees not far away and decided to stop there for the night. They could rest in the small clearing, knowing that most travellers would head to the other one and completely miss them. Together, they took care of the horses and set up camp. Volunteering for first watch, Merlin waited until Arthur was asleep and then called out to Kilgharrah. He had felt the dragon’s presence earlier and remembered they hadn’t spoken in nearly a year. 

The adjacent clearing was just large enough for Kilgharrah to land. “Hello, young warlock,” he greeted as always.

“Hello, old dragon,” Merlin teased in response. 

“You are off to Avalon then,” he said. “It is good that you learn about your destined position even if you will not assume it yet.”

Merlin frowned. He was under the impression that he was just going to help Morgan put some rumors to rest and maybe get a tour of this fabled land. “Destined position?” Merlin asked.

Kilgharrah nodded his large head slowly. “Lady Morgan is right to fear you usurping her throne. Her position will one day be yours.”

Great. Just another thing the dragon was convinced he was destined for. He really wanted to have a talk with Destiny and teach it to delegate better. “You’ve never mentioned this before.”

“You have many years to grow into your full potential. Your destiny with Arthur was of more immediate importance. You would find out about this when the time was right.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. Someday when he met the other dragons, he hoped to learn how much of this habitual secret keeping was just Kilgharrah and how much was the whole species. Sure, he kept secrets as well, but he didn’t casually reveal life altering ones as if discussing the weather over a glass of ale. “And since that time has come, can you tell me more about Avalon?” Merlin asked. “There’s not much about it in any of the library books. Or at least not much beyond speculation.”

“Well, you better get comfortable then. There is much to tell you.” 

Merlin’s face lit up. He hadn’t actually expected Kilgharrah to tell him anything. Usually he just said it would be up to Merlin to discover something for himself and then flew off. Maybe the crotchety old lizard had missed Merlin as much as he had been missed by Merlin. 

Kilgharrah settled down, laying on the grass and filling the clearing. Merlin settled against his shoulder where he could see Kilgharrah’s head and Arthur sleeping. 

“You should know, I have not been to Avalon myself, but the dragons older than myself used to travel between the world often, back when there were more dragonlords than dragons,” Kilgharrah began. “They told us stories that I can pass on to you.

“Avalon is the land of immortals and those favoured by the Goddess. Time does not fly straight like it does here. You may witness someone slain only to find them hale a week later, fully aware of their previous death. There, everything is bursting with life.” Kilgharrah turned one large eye to Merlin. “Even more than it is here. They say even the air carries you in flight. Though for all its beauty, there is still danger. You must be careful how you speak when you are there. The beings of Avalon have long memories and they will twist your words if you do not guard your tongue. Make no promises and swear no oath.”

“I won’t,” he promised. Then a thought occurred to him. “Do they only speak the Old Language there?”

“Not exclusively, but that is the language of the Courts. It is why they are so skilled with their words.”

At Merlin’s prompting, Kilgharrah went on to explain what he knew of the Courts and some of the different beings that lived there. But Merlin was exhausted after a long day in the sun and soon Kilgharrah had to nudge him back awake and send him to wake Arthur for his shift. 

“Thank you for sharing your stories,” he said with a yawn, only barely keeping himself upright. 

“It was an honour to share them. I look forward to hearing your stories upon your return.” 


	22. Gift from the Shadows - Part 2

After another two days of camping, they were close enough to see the watchtower. Luckily, it was in unclaimed land and there would be no patrols from foreign knights they would need to avoid. Anyone was free to enjoy this land. 

Although enjoyment might be a challenge. It was a barren wasteland. Rocks and dust as far as the eye could see. Absolutely no shelter from the sun. Their water was already running low and they still had to make it back from the plains. Understandably a good place for a watch tower, but an awful spot for a picnic. 

But as they were not here for a picnic, Arthur and Merlin rode on to the tower. They stopped part way through to walk alongside the horses, but the sand and bare rock was hot even through their boots and it was hard to let the horses have the break they needed. They ate while they rode, not wanting to delay the sweet shelter of the tower any longer.

They kept their eyes firmly trained on the tower ahead. No need for the map anymore; it was the only structure in sight. Through the haze, it rose like a dark turret. Closer up, they could see the stonework, worn smooth by the dust in the air, but broken in places and clearly uninhabited. Even closer, their path met with a stone path mostly buried by the sand. Perhaps long ago it had connected to another tower or a castle proper. Now, the sand had reclaimed it.

It was only when they were nearly at the gate that Merlin finally noticed the portal. There was a slight shimmer to the air to the left of the tower. A large gateway had been made of three rocks. It looked haphazard, as if they had fallen from a cliff that was not there. 

They both dismounted and Merlin took their reigns, saying he’d put the horses in the small stable round the side, while Arthur walked in. 

Lady Morgan was waiting inside the stable, perched on a gate with her feet off the ground and leaning against the wall, her skirt flowing down like a waterfall. She looked incredibly out of place in the dark stable. “I hope you weren’t waiting long,” Merlin said as he stabled the horses. 

“Not long at all. I’d been tracking your progress. How is the scaly one?”

“Getting older, though he won’t admit it. I was surprised to find him this far south.” He took the saddles off their horses. “There a well around here?”

Morgan waved her hand and the troughs filled with water. Show off. But instead of teasing her, Merlin raised his own water skin in request and she filled that as well. He drank deeply, finally satisfying his thirst. 

“Ready to visit Avalon, then?” she asked when Merlin had finished. 

Merlin glanced down at his clothes. That wouldn’t do. Not if they cared so much about appearance like Kilgharrah said. With a flash of his eyes, his sand covered clothes changed into black trousers and a deep green tunic with ivy stitched into the cuffs. He transfigured a piece of straw to serve as a golden belt. “Ready.”

Together, they walked to the portal and, side by side, crossed the gateway between the two worlds. 

Merlin wondered if there was actually a closer portal and Morgan had just chosen this one for dramatic effect. Coming from the rocky plain, the vibrant colours almost hurt his eyes. After the colours, Merlin noticed the magic. Even though he couldn’t see people using it, he could feel it humming in the air around him. He reflexively loosened his hold on his magic and felt a surge of joy in response. The land seemed to welcome him with a warm embrace. Crystalline spires raced each other skyward, all glittering with warm colours in the sunset glow. Faintly in the distance, flying creatures darted between buildings.

“Welcome to the heart of Avalon.”

“It’s beautiful,” Merlin whispered. Inhaling deeply, he caught the smell of freshly baked apple pie. 

Morgan looked around. “It knows how to present a good face. Like your first view of Camelot before you learn about the laws.”

Merlin slowly turned around and took one last look at the unblemished splendor. He saw children playing chase and young couples laughing together on a stroll through the hills. The stream shimmered with water spirits dancing with the fae flying just above the surface. Everything seemed so carefree and joyful. He wanted to stay and luxuriate in the land of no responsibilities. But he could not. He had a purpose even here. “Then let’s go see the laws.”

They linked arms again and Morgan teleported them to the Shadow Court. Appearing in the lobby of her office, Morgan pulled on her formal robes and instructed her assistant to not tell anyone of their arrival. 

Checking no one would see them, she led Merlin to the empty council hall. The first thing he noticed was the large U-shaped table. A throne of onyx at the bend left no doubt about where the leader sat. The variously sized seats around the table provided clues to who sat where, but Merlin didn't really know enough for that to inform him. 

“So what now?” Merlin asked when Morgan still didn't say anything. “Obviously, we’re early,” he pushed. 

Morgan stood beside her throne with one hand stroking the arm. “Sit in the throne,” she said, forcing the words out. 

“Why?” Was it dangerous? Why did she seem so reluctant when he had clearly told her she had no intention of taking her throne? Although now he knew that his throne was also his destiny. He didn’t tell that to Morgan.

She stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder and thought directly into his mind, outlining a rough plan. Merlin could tell she didn’t seem pleased with this plan. Her thoughts held a note of resignation. 

Merlin nodded his understanding and sat, watching her melt into the shadows of the room and out of sight. The throne felt uncomfortable. Or maybe it felt too comfortable. Morgan had said it was okay, it would present the image they wanted, but he still felt like it was committing to something. A blue ripple passed over the chair as he sat before settling back to black. Merlin only had a few deep breaths before the doors opened and the court began to enter. 

Unlike the council in Camelot of all elderly men, in this council no two members looked alike. Some of the creatures he recognised from books in the library: a blue skinned Strand, a skeletal Marylebone, a Gower that had to climb small steps up into his chair, and a Doon hiding in its dark cloak. Still others trailed in, one flying and another that looked like a centaur but had six legs rather than four. 

Merlin met their gaze as they sat and did nothing to quell the whispers around the table. Finally, all the seats were full and the doors were shut. The whispering stopped and all eyes turned to Merlin. “Greetings, all,” he began. “I, Emrys, call this meeting of the Shadow Court to session.” 

That was how Morgan had told him every session began. That was the end of what he had planned. It shouldn’t be too hard though. He wrote speeches for Arthur all the time. 

“I understand that the warning of my protection over Camelot has spread far. Farther than I had hoped for and I am glad. It is an important message for our community. Any attack on Camelot in the last five years has only resulted in tragedy for the perpetrator and a headache for myself. Neither situation is desired.”

There were muted nods around the table. 

“Because of this message, I understand that there is support for me to become the leader of this council.” Merlin could practically feel the energy in the room heighten. “Unfortunately, I am not well acquainted with your world and I would desire to hear why you want me to be your leader.” Merlin leaned back slightly and waited for someone else to speak. 

He was not surprised that the Gower spoke first. “You have the power. It has been prophesied, and even when you crossed the border we could all feel it.”

Merlin nodded, not saying anything. It’s not as if he was wrong.

“You have defeated our current leader,” the echoing voice of the Marylebone said. 

Merlin tilted his head to the side. “When was this? We have never duelled.”

“The Shadow Court recognises other types of battles. You have beaten Lady le Fay in an argument. That is more difficult that blasting her off her feet.”

Merlin resisted the urge to smile. He wasn’t sure which time they were thinking of, but each rare victory was a good memory for him. Instead he gave a slow nod and waited for anyone else to speak. When no one did, Merlin sat up straighter.

“So if I am understanding you correctly,” Merlin began. “You wished to support me overthrowing Lady le Fay simply because I was born with powerful magic, and I have beaten the Lady in an argument once?”

“It was three times,” a woman with large wings folded against her back spoke up.

“What is your name?”

“Isla, my lord.”

“Lady Isla, and everyone else, I do not care how many times I have had the last word in an argument. Neither of these qualities make a good leader.” Merlin looked around the table sternly. “I am aware that I may be destined to hold a position in this court. But destiny has no expiration date. It is also my destiny to help train the Once and Future King. That is what I am focusing on. I have taught him much, but he still has more to learn.” Merlin paused. “I have more to learn.”

Merlin stood. “One day it may be right for me to take this throne. But for now I wish you to continue to support Lady le Fay as your leader.

Morgan stepped out from her hiding spot and stood at Merlin’s side.

“And when that day comes,” she said. “I will support him as your new leader. Until that time, we wish for all talks of collusion to cease.”

Since Merlin was not keeping a reign on his magic, he was able to feel a flash of shame from the council. It was brief, though, as the members of the court collected themselves. 

“We understand and will respect that,” the not-centaur said, inclining his head respectfully. “Since this is your first time in Avalon, would you allow me the honour of giving you a brief tour of the city?”

“I would like that very much, Lord?”

“Lord Menkwet of Ludgate at your service.” He bowed. “My people also have a gift that we have been waiting to give you.”

“Lead the way then, as long as you don’t mind being one councilor short, Morgan?”

Morgan motioned for him to go and enjoy the sights. “Just make sure to head back to the portal before too much time passes.” Merlin didn’t know his way back to the portal, but he hoped Lord Menkwet did. He also didn’t know how much time had passed already. Kilgharrah had warned him that time was strange, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted to stay here forever. 

Lord Menkwet walked through the council building via the gallery hallways and then led Merlin on a winding path out of the city proper. Once outside, he broke into a trot and Merlin had to lengthen his stride to keep up. 

Merlin saw the great green rolling hills and the various fountains with different healing properties. Lord Menkwet explained that the natural waters helped maintain the health of the world and their magic gave rise to the magic of the land. The magic of the beings born in this land only drew from the natural spring and helped spread the light further. 

“You are also born of this natural spring,” he told Merlin. 

“But I was born in the other world,” Merlin protested. “This is my first time in Avalon.”

“There is more to you than you yet understand. This body of yours has not been to Avalon before, but  _ you _ are the essence of this land. You are magic itself.” He looked at Merlin and yet seemed not to be seeing him, the boy from Ealdor, but a god or maybe a literal force of nature. It was disconcerting. Lord Menkwet collected himself. “Even if this was not true, you are descended from the first dragonlord and they first got their powers from the river Wyre.”

“Really?” Merlin was fascinated. His father had told him some of the history of the dragonlords, but most of his teachings had been about how to fly and on the different species of dragons he may one day have to care for. 

“Yes. I believe it was a reckless human who climbed on a dragon and survived the flight to Avalon but only barely. The dragon admired his bravery and agreed to be bound to the human in order to save his life.”

That...sounded like something Gwaine would do. Or, if he was being honest with himself, something he would do. Didn’t his father say he had tried to climb one the dragons before he could walk properly?

Actually, he wondered how the clan was doing. One of the older dragons had taken them all to the far North when the Purge had started and Merlin had only ever met Kilgharrah and Dekker, a dragon that had bonded with his father and flew Balinor to the caves near Ealdor when Merlin was younger. Dekker had been a smaller dragon with sleek black scales, perfect for flying under the cover of night. He remembered his mother scolding them for taking such a risk, but she could never stay angry after he kissed her.

“Lord Emrys?”

Merlin blinked. “Sorry, got lost in memories. What were you saying?”

“I was merely telling you that we have arrived at my home.”

Sure enough, Merlin could see a large group of the six-legged not-centaurs watching them approach. Some were still keeping watch on large pots of food or supervising the children running through the field, but the adults were waiting for them. Merlin looked quickly over his shoulder. He couldn’t see the city anymore. He didn’t think they had been walking for that long. 

Lord Menkwet gestured ahead. “Come, let us go to the main tent.”

Everyone bowed as Merlin and Lord Menkwet passed through the camp. Merlin had a suspicion the formality for was him; it made him uncomfortable. Maybe Avalon wouldn’t be the greatest place if everyone treated him like royalty. 

The main tent was similar to the tent Arthur used during tournaments. Long posts held up the thick canvas and when the flap was dropped behind them, the sound of the children playing fell silent. Again like Arthur’s tent, there was a large table in the center; however, there were no chairs or even stools to sit on. Merlin realised that made sense. 

Also unlike Arthur’s tent, the lights in the tent were glowing orbs of amber light, floating just below the green fabric. 

There were two others inside standing at the table. Each were taller than Merlin, with coats of dark brown, one ever so slightly lighter than the other. Their hair was long, the one with greyer hair Merlin assumed to be the older of the two.

“Menkwet, Lord Emrys, welcome,” the elder said. “I am Agena, and this is Alnair. We are pleased you have taken the time to visit us.”

“The honor is mine,” Merlin replied. To be quite fair, he’d thought he was going to get a tour of the city, but apparently Lord Menkwet had just gave that as an excuse. Maybe he just didn’t want to sit in the council. Merlin could sympathise. Especially after Morgan had it confirmed that her councillors would support Merlin over her. It was bound to be an icy session. 

“We understand that you need to return to your world soon, but we have a gift for you. Something we have been keeping safe for you.”

Merlin cocked his head to the side. Had they known he was coming? Alnair and Agena laid their hands on top of a plain box on the table that Merlin had failed to notice. It was about a foot tall so really, he should’ve seen it. They then intoned an incantation. 

Merlin watched as the box glowed with geometric designs and some runes that were unfamiliar to him. Something deep within him felt inexorably pulled to the box. He found he had taken three steps closer when the incantation finished and the elders stepped back. 

They turned to him. “Open it.” 

He didn’t see a handle, so he just waved his hand to lift the lid. The box gently fell away to reveal a small stand with the most precious gift on top. Merlin’s heart actually skipped a beat and he forgot to breath for a moment. The whole world seemed to stand still and maybe it did. The gift shone in the light yet it also seemed to have a glow of its own. Merlin reached out slowly, carefully.

It was a dragon’s egg.


	23. Gift from the Shadows - Part 3

Arthur stopped on the fourth flight of stairs, listening for the sound of his manservant following. Still nothing. He didn’t expect Merlin to be  _ right  _ behind him. After all, he had asked him to take care of the horses and perhaps there wasn’t a stable or maybe there was a stable but Merlin had gone to find water for their horses and that took time. But surely it couldn’t have taken that long. 

Arthur had already thoroughly explored the rooms on the first four floors. He had found plenty of substandard swords and helmets dented by years of battle. About three rooms where the most exciting thing in them were cobwebs over the door frames. He had even found a couple books that were in good shape and had set them aside to bring back to Sir William. The man was always looking for more books. Arthur didn’t understand how there was room for all those books, but apparently William excelled at finding the right books. The Camelot library had a reputation for being one of the best in Albion; he had heard his father boasting of it with a visiting king before. Perhaps Merlin also knew which books were worth bringing back.

But Merlin was still not with him. Shaking his head, Arthur climbed a couple more stairs to stick his head out of the window. Immediately, he felt the head of the sun on the back of his neck. The stones of the tower had been keeping him cool. Arthur had just so happened to pick a window that looked over the stables. It was small, maybe only large enough for six horses. “Merlin!” he yelled.

He heard one of the horses snort and then Merlin walked out of the stables. 

Merlin put his hands on his hips and glared upwards. “I’m coming, you prat. Your horse was very picky about the feed. Nearly as bad as you.”

“I am not picky!” Arthur shouted back. 

Merlin just walked around the building to the main entrance. “Tell that to Audrey,” he shouted over his shoulder. 

Arthur pulled his head back in and said nothing. No one started an argument with the head chef. Even Merlin knew better, and that was saying a lot. Although, it rose the question of whether someone had told Merlin and he had listened - unlikely - or if he had tried to argue with her. The latter would be an entertaining story for sure. He opened his mouth to ask Merlin about it when they met on the ground level, but Merlin spoke first.

“You couldn’t leave the books on the shelf?” He was pointing at the pile Arthur had made just inside the door.

“What? I didn’t want to forget to bring them to William so I put them where I would see them.”

“You mean unlike the shelf next to the door? Which is better than the floor?” Merlin marched past Arthur, who caught a faint whiff of apples.

He was sure that there hadn’t been a shelf down there. Surely he would have seen it. 

“Come on, the spear’s probably at the top of the tower.”

“And how would you know where it is?” Arthur demanded, even as he followed.

“If you were leaving a powerful weapon behind, would you leave it on the ground floor? Or would you make someone work for it?”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

Arthur was mystified when Merlin marched them directly to the sixth floor and the room with the spear, not even bothering to peer in any of the rooms they passed. Arthur walked over to the spear lying across the arms of the throne and easily lifted it with a wide smile. He had completed the quest. This spear would be a treasure of Camelot to put in a place of honour. He turned to brag to Merlin, but he was already on the stairs heading back down. “Merlin?” Arthur frowned but followed. “I found the spear. A good servant would at least congratulate me. Offer to carry the treasure even.” He heard a dull “Congratulations” but that was all.

Merlin was oddly quiet as they made their way out of the plains and back to the shelter of the forest. Arthur tried to strike up conversation, but Merlin seemed distracted, giving only one word answers or simply humming in the pauses. He didn’t seem angry or tired, at least not as far as Arthur could tell, just distracted. Eventually, he gave up and brainstormed where to display the spear. 

He considered above the door of his chambers but dismissed that. Only a select group of people were allowed in the private residences so it wouldn’t be sufficient.  He thought maybe of erecting it as a single monument in the courtyard or the main gate, but that felt like too much. He was proud, but he didn’t want to be arrogant about it. Not anymore. Maybe he’d settle for placing it with one the suits of armor outside the Great Hall. It wouldn’t stick out too much, but anyone who came to proposition this king would see the gold shimmer among the muted silver armor. 

Merlin and Arthur rode again to the same clearing they had spent the last night in, only to find it occupied. Arthur was ready to ride on and risk the greater exposure of the large clearing, but one of the travellers spoke up. 

“Please, you’re welcome to join our camp for tonight,” the traveller said. He looked old, maybe older than Uther, and had a large brown blanket wrapped around him for warmth, despite the fire already burning. “It’s only me and my two sons. We would be glad of some company.”

“We’d love to join you,” Merlin spoke up. He actually sounded pleased and swung down from his horse eagerly. “It’s been a long day and I’d be glad to have some help with supper.”

Apparently, Arthur wasn’t being given a choice. Not that he would’ve said no, but a small part of him was worried they would steal the spear. He threw his cloak over the spear as he dismounted. 

“Where are you travelling?” Arthur asked. 

One of the sons glanced quickly at his father before answering. “We’re from the mountains of Stafford. Travelling to visit old friends.” He paused to stir whatever was on the pot over the fire. “Something of a family gathering.”

“Are there many of you?” Merlin asked.

“We do expect to meet a few more on the road tomorrow, but it’s possible we won’t see them till we reach our destination.”

There was something about this family that put Arthur on edge. They weren’t lying, or at least he didn’t think they were, but they weren’t telling the entire truth. “It’s been a long time since I travelled so far south,” he said casually. “Who’s the king nowadays?”

“King Iago still reigns,” the father said. “Hasn’t really been much strife to change that. Trade with the islands keeps us well feed.”

Darn. They were telling the truth. Arthur didn’t want them to be liar, but he did want them to tell him the king had changed. It had been ages since he thought about it, but he was pretty sure he was technically betrothed to his daughter. Whom he had never met. Hopefully, his father wasn’t going to bring that up anytime soon. He was already starting to lose some of his mental facilities, calling lords the names of their father and forgetting to take his daily medicine unless Corinakus was there to remind him. Maybe this betrothal would also slip from his memory.

Conversation shifted when Arthur was lost in thought and now Merlin was talking about the healing arts with them. Boring. He decided to trust the travellers and took the opportunity to study the spear. Rhon...whatever. It had no inscription nor any jewels. He suppose if you decorated a spear too much, it wouldn’t be balanced. 

After a delicious dinner, he lost himself in polishing his sword. Despite not needing it, some sand had found its way into his sheath. He didn’t notice Merlin left the campsite until he jumped at the new logs being added to the fire and realised it wasn’t Merlin. 

“He said he’s gone to pick some rare herbs,” one of the sons said when he asked. “He said he saw them last night but didn’t want to leave you on your own.”

What did Merlin need the herbs for anyway? Corinakus had his own apprentices to send out for supplies.

Normally, Merlin would be tending to the fire or helping Arthur polish his blades. But he had something more important to do tonight. Whispering a cover story to the druid sitting next to him, Merlin grabbed his bag from their supplies and jogged into the woods, looking for the clearing they passed not long before. Arthur was still awake this time so he cast a glamour around the clearing. “ _ Nemo videt hanc defensionem. Neve quis locat. Ut nos abscondit me. _ ” A shimmer of magic flew from his hand and created a barrier between the trees at the edge of the clearing. Then, with a roar, he called out to Kilgharrah.

The dragon landed in the clearing with a rumble of the earth. “What has you so excited, young warlock?” he asked, lowering his head to peer at Merlin. “Did something happen in Avalon?”

Merlin’s smile grew wider. It was fun knowing more than Kilgharrah for once. “I’m almost surprised you haven’t figured it out already.” Merlin gently set his bag down on the grass and flipped it open. Reverently, he pulled out the egg and brought it closer to Kilgharrah.

“An egg,” he breathed. “Where did you find it? We had feared all our eggs had been destroyed.”

Merlin set it gently on the grass and stepped back. “A tribe of six-legged centaurs in Avalon said they had been keeping it safe for me.” His eyes were still glued to the creme shell with the raindrop shape.

“Ah, the hextaur tribe,” Kilgharrah said. “They are a far seeing people.”

“Should I hatch the egg? Is it safer as an egg?” Merlin asked, letting some of his worries bubble over.

“Hatch it,” Kilgharrah said quickly. “We can care for a hatchling better than an egg. And it will give the Wyrn some hope for the future.”

Merlin shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. He was going to see a baby dragon! He would hatch a baby dragon! Wait. He rocked backward and looked up at Kilgharrah. “How do I hatch it?” His father had never told him this. 

“Look deep inside you. Look for your own dragon soul.”

Merlin sat in front of the egg and closed his eyes. He sat on his hands to keep from fidgeting.

“Within your soul, reach out to the egg,” Kilgharrah continued. “Find its soul and know its true name. You will know when you find it. Speak its name to call it out.”

The Great Dragon watched as Merlin meditated. His breath slowed and it felt like more than just Merlin was waiting, hoping. It was a far cry from the grand celebrations hatching had been in the past, but those days would not be upon them for many centuries. 

There could be no great gathering of the dragon clans in this day and age. Too many families had gone into hiding all over Albion, if they hadn’t been killed. They knew how rare their gift was. They would not risk exposure until Magic was returned to the land. Although Camelot was just one kingdom of many, its influence was great. 

Kilgharrah waited, his claws tapping impatiently, watching the skies wheel overhead, until Merlin spoke.

“Aithusa.”

In the quiet, they heard the crack of a shell and Merlin’s eyes flew open. A tiny claw pushed at the egg’s shell until it fell apart and the baby was left on its own. 

A tiny white dragon looked at Merlin and gave a happy chirp. Merlin smiled back through his tears of joy. 

“Welcome to the world, Aithusa.”

The baby stumbled closer to Merlin and fell into his lap. Reverently, Merlin stroked one finger down her spine. 

“She has imprinted strongly on you,” Kilgharrah said fondly. “That bodes well for your future. You have named her after the light of the sun, and I believe she will shine as brightly as you do.”

“Hello, darling.” Merlin dashed away the tears on his cheek as he continued to stroke Aithusa. She leaned into his hand. “What were you named after?” 

“My dragon lord named me after the storm clouds,” Kilgharrah responded. “You may bond a little longer, but then you need to sleep and we must begin our journey north.”

Merlin merely nodded and continuing petting Aithusa and showering her with compliments. It was going to be hard to separate them.

The next day, Merlin woke Arthur and they set off immediately. The others had already packed up the camp and were just spreading out the ashes of the fire. Arthur grabbed an apple from his saddle bag and mounted up. 

Merlin seemed much brighter today as they rode and he kept asking the travellers questions about what Stafford was like, and High Cliffe, which they must’ve passed through. The soft purples of the sunset were just beginning to be seen through the trees when they encountered another group of travellers. Ones known to the first group. 

The first thing Arthur noticed was their robes. In the group of seven people, only one did not have on long brown robes. He was carrying them instead. They greeted the father and sons with enthusiastic grins and warm embraces, but Arthur felt a chill of suspicion. He looked more closely, but he didn’t see anyone using magic. But they wore the robes that only druids wore; no one else dared wear similar in case they were hunted. 

He felt beads of sweat from between his fingers. He was travelling with druids. He looked over at Merlin. He was smiling and chatting with one of the women. He didn’t seem bothered. Arthur  wasn’t proud of it, but he strained his ears to listen into their conversation. It sounded like they were discussing cooking. For some magic potion? No, it sounded just like capons in concy.

They were just trading recipes. 

It was something Merlin had done countless times before. It allowed him to vary the fare of food he could provide to the knights on patrols or quest. Arthur knew they all appreciated it.

Arthur continued to walk in silence, his shoulders tense and his jaw clenched. He had caught the eye of one of the druids once and instantly he could picture her in the courtyard, burning on the stake. He kept his eyes forward after that.

When they paused for lunch, Merlin confronted him. “Are you alright?” He handed him a roll with some ham. “You’ve been quiet.”

Arthur leaned close. “They’re druids,” he whispered.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, his face otherwise expressionless. “Yeah. So?”

“In Camelot,” Arthur stressed.

“They’re just travellers, Arthur. They’ve done nothing wrong.” Merlin sounded disappointed.

“But what if...,” he paused not entirely sure what he was going to say. “What if they get caught? I don’t think I could watch them burn.” Maybe that’s what was really bothering him. He didn’t feel it was right, burning any druids in Camelot for suspicion on magic, but he could convince himself that maybe they were the bad sort. He hadn’t met them. But these people? He looked around and realised he had learned their names. 

“Then don’t.” Merlin straightened and walked away. 

Arthur resolved to try to relax. And he did manage it. After thinking about it, he realised that this was an opportunity for him to learn about the druids. At first he merely listened, only occasionally asking a question. There was more trading of recipes with Merlin and marvelling at the warm weather they were having this summer. Apparently, certain plants were in high abundance and honestly, Arthur he had nothing to add. It was only when the conversation turned to horses that Arthur felt he knew enough to contribute. 

By the time they stopped for the night, Arthur was quite relaxed. As they ate the dinner prepared by Merlin and one of the two women, Arthur summoned his courage and asked the druids about their culture and traditions. He knew that his father had purposely taught him nothing about druids, but Arthur was determined to become a different king. 

In the throne room, Uther beamed when the doors opened to reveal his son. The important members of the court lined the room as Arthur walked forward, his servant following behind. Arthur said nothing until he reached the appropriate six paces from the throne. Then, he bowed and waited for his father to address him first. 

“My son,” Uther said, projecting his voice so that all could hear. “Was your quest successful?”

“It was indeed, sire. I journeyed across borders and through the harsh Planes of Denaria to recover the legendary spear of Dnagerfield, warrior of the North.” It just now occured to Arthur that it was strange to find the spear of a Northern man south of Camelot. Though he supposed that to the people of Lorraine, even Nottingham seemed north. He motioned to Merlin to come forward.

The spear had been polished while Arthur bathed and the gold shone even brighter in the candles of the hall. Merlin wore white gloves to prevent any more smudges as he held it out for the king to inspect. Uther took it into his own gloved hands and held it up, running his fingers down the length and inspecting the balance. 

“This is truly a thing of beauty and a prize to be celebrated,” he declared, handing the spear back to Merlin. “To recover such a weapon indeed proves the strength of the kingdom you will rule over in your own time. Let the criers announce the good news of this quest. Tomorrow is a market day.” It was not, but no one corrected him. “Let the spear be shown at the gates so that all who enter know the might of my son, Prince Arthur!”

In the library, William stood and hugged Merlin when he entered. It was late in the evening and they were alone except for two students at the far table, buried in a pile of books. Merlin hugged William tightly, trying to share all his barely contained joy. “I have so much to tell you!” he said excitedly. 

William smiled back and followed Merlin into his room in the back. Merlin shut the door and touched the rune on the frame to activate the sound barrier. 

“Tell me everything, my boy,” William said, sitting down on the only chair in the room while Merlin leapt onto the bed. 

“There’s so much I want to tell you I hardly know where to start.” He was talking fast, bouncing in his excitement. “I was in Avalon. It was gorgeous, I hardly wanted to leave, and there are so many creatures of magic, and it feels like I belong there too. Oh, and they say I’ve won three arguments against Morgan, which is more than I thought I had, but it’s strange to know they’re keeping track and I don’t think I want to know how they know. But there’s also the hextaurs: they’re centaurs but with six legs and they gave me the best gift ever, William,” Merlin paused for a breath, not seeming to believe even what he knew had happened. 

“They had a dragon egg,” he said softly. 

“An egg?” William asked, hardly able to believe what he was being told. “I didn’t think there were any left in the world.”

Merlin grinned. “Maybe not in this world, but they’d been holding onto one to keep it safe.”

“And where is the egg now? Somewhere safe?”

“I hatched it.” Merlin closed his eyes briefly. “It was like nothing I’ve felt before. Her soul and mine, for one shining moment, were one soul. William, it was beautiful.” His eyes were shining with unshed tears, just from the memory of the hatching. 

William placed a hand on Merlin’s knee. “What did you name her?”

“Her name is Aithusa, light of the sun. Kilgharrah said she’s a sign of good days to come and I hope he’s right. Oh! I can show her to you.” Merlin concentrated and silently wove an illusion from his memory. He showed William an image of Aithusa, bright white against the green grass, smiling up at Merlin and stretching her wings to catch her balance as she walked forward.

William watched the image, and his eyes, too, shone with proud tears. He stood and wrapped Merlin in another embrace. “Your father would be so proud of you. I am so proud of you.”


	24. Curtain Call - Part 1

All over Camelot whispers grew. In the market streets, in the taverns, in the kitchens, one word was heard above all others: players.

The players were coming. 

No one knew who started the rumours, or which theatre troupe it was, or even where they hailed from. But everyone knew they were coming. 

Soon, the castle confirmed it. The Friday after next, the poster read. The Renegade Revelries were coming to perform a humorous play about true love that would change Camelot forever.

Or so the posters claimed.

Merlin was sad when he realised he would miss it. Although Arthur had been giving him generous time off lately – no doubt Gwen’s influence – he still allowed Merlin his usual week off for Hunith’s birthday. And so on Tuesday, Merlin packed his saddlebags and rode to Ealdor.

Hunith awoke to the smell of cloveroot porridge. She rolled onto her back and smiled at the ceiling. Her boy worked magic in the kitchen; she was sure she had run out of cinnamon during the winter.

Her stomach rumbled and she joined her son in the main room. The smell was even stronger here. He was sitting at the table, mindlessly playing with his spoon. His brow was furrowed and he seemed a million miles away.

“You know my birthday was yesterday,” Hunith said, sitting opposite Merlin. “You don't have to spoil me.”

Merlin looked up and all traces of worry vanished from his face. “I want to spoil you, Mother.” He served her a bowl of porridge from where it was hanging over the small fire.

Hunith accepted the bowl and they ate their breakfast in peaceful silence. It wasn’t until they were through that Hunith called his bluff. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” he tried to protest.

Hunith raised her eyebrows and folded her arms. “You can’t lie to me.”

Merlin sighed. “It’s just a feeling, but I can’t shake it. It feels like the world is holding its breath. Like something big is going to happen.” He looked up and met her eyes. “I’m worried for Arthur.”

“Didn’t you tell me you were getting better at scrying?” Hunith asked. “Could you check on him?”

Merlin beamed at her. “That’s brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you get too wrapped up in your worry to think straight. Your father was like that, too. Sometimes I can’t believe he was the head dragonlord.”

“He had you to ground him.”

Hunith shook her head. He was just like Balinor. Same wild hair and wild magic. He’d certainly managed to inherit her husband’s way with words. It was almost like having him back again. It had been over a year since she learned of his passing, but it still brought a tear to her eye while she smiled at Merlin. “Alright, that’s enough flattery for one morning. If you fetch the water, I can clean up while you check on Arthur.”

Hunith listened to him mutter while she cleaned and prepared for the day. The dishes were washed, the fire calmed, and the blankets Merlin had used tucked away in the corner while she swept. When she was done, she looked over Merlin’s shoulder. He had been staring at the image in the water for a while. She thought she could make out Arthur sitting at a table. At any rate, she didn’t know anyone else with hair that blond. But the image was blurry and sometimes seemed to reflect in on itself.

Merlin sighed and released the spell. “William said that the material of the bowl made a difference, but I didn’t think it would be this difficult. He’s safe as far as I can tell. I should enjoy my time with you.”

“If Kilgharrah is nearby, you can ask him to watch from afar.”

Merlin shook his head. “I’ve already asked him. He hasn’t contacted me so it’s probably nothing. He would tell me if I was needed.”

Yet even as he pretended to relax, Hunith could tell he only grew more worried as the day stretched to night.

Arthur was nearly crying with laughter. Most of the audience was. On stage, the main character was pursuing his lover through the forest. Only, she had been turned into an animal and only a kiss from her true love could break the spell. He just didn’t know what animal. 

So he was chasing and kissing any animal he found; none yet had been his girl. 

Arthur glanced to the side as his father snorted with laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had laughed so hard. He motioned for a servant to fill up his goblet, but everyone else was too busy watching the performance. With a shrug, he slipped out of his seat and fetched the pitcher himself. He poured more water for his father and himself. 

It was wonderful to see everyone coming together for a happy reason. Too many times the townsfolk had been called together for an execution or to announce a raise in taxes. But looking around the room and seeing his people sitting together, laughing together, made Arthur’s spirit soar. 

Here, there was little distinction between the servants and the merchants, between the knights and the stable hands. Only Arthur, his father, and a few of the elder councilmen were seated at the table in the back of the room. Everyone else had fit in wherever they found space. Arthur knew he wanted more gatherings like this when he was king.

A gasp from the audience roused Arthur from his daydreams. Refocusing on the stage, he saw that a hunter was now also prowling the woods with his bow. One of the fairies was leading him towards the woman enchanted to look like a deer. The other fairies were performing a complicated dance behind them to change the scenery.

The audience were shouting for him to give it up and ignore the fairy. Uther was shouting with them. The set pieces behind them whirled and it looked like trees were flying past as the hunter ran. The lantern that had been representing the moon was suddenly covered and the hunter vanished in the distraction. 

A new, brighter lantern flew up from behind the scenery The lover burst onto the stage from the other side. The audience cheered for him. The scenery spun faster. Then, at last, with all the key characters on stage, everything happened at once. 

The lovers crashed into each other, and miraculously, their lips touched, breaking the spell. 

The hunter loosed his bolt, but it struck the fairy rather than the deer.

The scenery stopped moving and seemed to melt away.

The lovers stood back up and found that they were both deer! With confused looks, they tried to kiss again, but the awkward deer heads the actors were wearing kept making them miss. Arthur was grasping his side; it was aching from laughing at the farce. Glancing at his father, he was seemingly having the same issue. 

But then, Arthur looked again and something didn’t seem right. He leaned over. “Father?”

Uther did not respond.

Arthur assumed he just didn’t hear, so he laid a hand on his father’s shoulder, but still he didn’t look up. Arthur shook him and barely made out a feeble groan over the sound of the audience cheering. A quick glance told him the couple were human again and getting married.

But Arthur didn’t care about the drama anymore. The lord on the other side of Uther was now also worried and helped Arthur push his father back upright. His face was pale. Too pale.

Arthur’s stomach dropped. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not tonight. Things had been perfect. He couldn’t let it be ruined. It couldn’t come crashing down now. 

“Fetch the physician!” Arthur called out. His powerful voice cut across the actors, still continuing their play, and everyone turned his way. “Someone get the physician now!”

The guards by the door ran out, feet pounding in the silence. Almost as loud as Arthur’s heartbeat hammering in his ears. He waved a servant over to demand a cool cloth and set about dabbing at his father’s forehead, hoping, praying it would rouse him. It did not. 

Arthur wasn’t a medic by any means – he had only learned the most basic battlefield healing – but even he knew that non-responsiveness wasn’t a good sign. “Father?” He tried calling his name again, but it didn’t change anything. It only made Arthur aware of the lump in his throat. 

When Corinakus arrived, he fussed around, constantly moving around the chair to examine Uther. When Arthur sat back to give him space, he noticed that the Great Hall was being cleared out. Most of the people were gone and the player's stage was almost completely packed away. He caught Leon’s eye and nodded jerkily in thanks. He hadn’t thought about the public image, he had only thought about his father. If he – when he got better, his father would probably lecture him about it. Never can have the kingdom looking weak. 

“Can we move him?” Arthur asked.

“We’ll have to.” Corinakus looked up at Arthur. His face was emotionless, but Arthur knew that was a bad sign. “We need to take him to his chambers.”

Swallowing thickly, Arthur ordered the knights left in the room to carry his father up to his room. “Careful with him. He’s the king.”

Arthur’s breath was quick as he watched them pick up his father. It took three of them to carry his unresponsive body out of the hall. Corinakus and Arthur followed close behind. Servants pressed themselves against the walls to get out of their way, but Arthur could do nothing to stop the gossip he knew was being spread. Already, he was sure half the town knew something was wrong with the king. He just hoped it was only temporary. 

When they made it to the king’s chambers, Corinakus’s apprentice was already waiting with the guards at the door. He had permission to enter the royal family’s corridor, but he was permitted no further without his master. The guards quickly pulled the door open and the knights laid Uther on the bed, on top of the blankets. Then, they left and the door shut behind them. 

Corinakus pulled out some strange instruments and poked and prodded at the king. He hummed low as he did so, but his face was still impassive. Annoyingly, so was his appentice’s face. The kid had improved. 

“Will he recover?” Arthur asked. He was ignored. “Do you know what caused it? Is there any wound?” 

“Help me sit him up and undress him.”

Arthur moved forward, eager to help in any way. 

“No, not you,” Corinakus flapped his hand at Arthur. 

Only now did Arthur realise that his father’s manservants were in the room as well. Had they been here before? Practiced as they were, they swiftly removed Uther’s outer layers so that Corinakus could perform a more thorough examination. 

“Was it poison?” Arthur asked. 

Now, Corinakus looked up. “I thought I told you to get out. I need space to work and your worrying is only going to distract me. Out!”

Arthur hurried out into the hall; he didn’t want to do anything that might prevent his father’s swift recovery. The chamber doors closed behind him. But at least in there, he could watch Corinakus work. There was something to distract him from the thoughts in his head. He walked further along the hall, toward the chambers that were meant for the queen. There were no guards here because what was there to guard? 

He stared at the flames of the torch on the wall that lit the empty stone walls. His mind replayed the moment again and again. Turning to his father, wanting to see the joyous laughter on his face, wanting to enjoy the feeling of being alive in the moment together, and then seeing his lack of response. 

How long had he been slouched over before Arthur had noticed? Had he been trying to reach for Arthur? He shook his head, trying to banish the thought. No. It must’ve been sudden. Surely he would’ve heard his father’s voice. He had been trained to hear that voice cry out commands on the battlefield; the laughter of the crowd was loud but never as loud as a war. 

Arthur turned from the flame and sat on the stone bench tucked into the wall. Feeling like a child, he brought his legs up to his chest and let his head rest on his knees. If he couldn’t see the world, maybe he could pretend like this wasn’t happening. 

His fingers started to drum out an incessant rhythm on his shin. No one had gotten close to his father. There was a clear space between the dias and the audience. His mind ran back, trying to remember if anyone had been there. But he couldn’t trust his memory.

Arthur heard voices and he looked up, craning to look out from the alcove and back toward his father’s chambers, hoping to see Corinakus. But instead, it was the guards changing. Filling the others in on the mundane before switching out. One of them noticed Arthur and nodded respectfully. Arthur ducked back into the alcove without returning the nod. He didn’t want to know that normal events were continuing. 

His father - the king - was dying! Things were not normal! His feet started to bounce anxiously. He jumped up from the bench and paced. Along the wall with the alcove down to the tapestry at the end of the hall. Cross to the other side. Walk along and past the locked doors to the fifth torch and stop. Couldn’t go too near the other room or he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from entering. Turn. Walk back toward the tapestry on the other side of the wall. 

Repeat. 

Repeat until father is healed. 

Repeat until you forget this like a bad dream. 

Repeat until everything is as it was and his father wasn’t just dying, but that cough that Arthur had been willfully ignoring was also gone and the hair on his head was dark brown not light grey and Arthur was young and his father still sometimes came to the knight’s training. 

Repeat until – he jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. His right hand flew to his hip though he carried no blade. 

“Arthur?” 

Breathing heavily, he realised it was only Guinevere. He let his hand fall to his side. 

“Arthur, you need to rest,” she said, her voice even more soothing than usual. She reached out again, slowly, and laid a calming hand on his shoulder. 

Arthur shook his head mutely, unable to find the words that he needed. 

“Corinakus went back to his chambers to figure out the cause of the illness.” She slowly pushed him backwards. “He’ll be back soon. We just need to wait.” 

The back of his legs felt the cold stone bench. With her help, he sat back down on the bench. She sat next to him. 

“Come on, it will be alright. Corinakus is the best physician in the land. He’s worked miracles before.” She pulled Arthur closer to her and obligingly, he pulled his legs up to better lean back against her chest. She gently carded her fingers through his hair. “Did I ever tell you about the time he healed Elyan when he fell off the roof?”

Arthur knew she was trying to distract him. She knew he loved it when she played with his hair. His breathing evened out as he let her words wash over him. “Of course Father had told him not to go up on the roof but he was playing at being a pirate and he needed to look out for land from the top of the ship.”

“How did he know what a ship looked like?” Arthur asked in a quiet voice. 

“Traders had been through the day before and they were telling stories in the market. I dragged him along to listen.” She laid her palm on the top of his head. “They always told such wondrous tales.” She resumed combing his hair with her fingers. The slight pressure and the barest scrape of her nails made his head go all tingly. He felt his eyes slip closed. “So there he was, up on the roof.”

Arthur soon fell into a restless sleep that settled down into something deeper before Corinakus completed his examination. 

_ Emrys _ . 

Merlin grumbled in his sleep. 

_ Emrys. _

_ Five more minutes _ , he thought back.

He could faintly sense a snort of laughter before the voice tried to rouse him once more. This time he woke up enough to respond coherently,  _ What is it? _

_ Emrys, it’s Aldrich. You are needed back in Camelot. The king is on his deathbed. _

Merlin was awake now. His heartbeat had already started racing toward the city.  _ What happened? When? _ He quickly threw on his jacket and collected the few things of his that had been scattered around the house. It was a good thing he didn’t have much. He needed to leave now.

_ No one knows yet. It seems to have happened during the play.  _ Oh no.  _ There’s conflicting accounts. Rumour has it it’s poison. The physician didn’t think he would last the night, though. If he’s still alive, it’s only just barely. _

_ I’ll take the fastest route then. Thank you. _ Merlin felt the druid close the connection and looked in on his mother. She was still sleeping. He sent a mental call out to Kilgharrah and then took a plate from the cabinet and flipped it over, using his magic to write a short note on the back. At least when she did wake up, she would know where he had gone.

“Merlin?” Or he could tell her now.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m a light sleeper; I’m a mother.” Hunith had her thin blanket over her shoulders and was leaning against the wall. “What is it?

”I just got word that Uther’s dying. Arthur will need me, whether he knows it or not.”

Hunith nodded, her eyes wide. “Go to him. We enjoyed a good visit while it lasted, but he needs you more.”

Merlin bent down to kiss his mother goodbye. She held him close to whisper in his ear, “Don’t do anything stupid.” He only met her eyes in silence before he slipped out of the village. 

On Kilgharrah’s powerful wings, it only took an hour to travel back to Camelot. Merlin thanked the dragon and entered into his secret tunnel entrance in the forest. He ran through the tunnel and leapt up the stairs of the cave to his office, his feet sure on the rocky surface even in the dark. From there, he jumped through his mirror into the library. Only then, in the quiet of the large room, did he cast out his senses to find Arthur’s aura. 

It wasn’t exact, but he felt far away, which meant he was probably near Uther’s chambers. Merlin tossed his travelling pack in his room and trotted off to find his friend, taking the servant’s passageways to avoid as many people as possible.

He crept up the servant’s passageway, past Arthur’s chambers and carefully pushed open the door for Uther’s chambers.  Arthur wasn’t there. No one was. Only an unnatural stillness that told Merlin the king was dead. He hurriedly left. 

Backtracking, he checked in Arthur’s chambers, but no one was there either. At least this room it wouldn’t be strange for him to walk out of even if the guards hadn’t seen him enter. He walked down the main corridor, back toward the king’s chambers and found Arthur there, at the end of the corridor, his head in Gwen’s lap as she leaned back into the corner of the alcove. Gwen’s eyes opened as Merlin approached. She glanced down at Arthur, and then back at Merlin, warning him to be quiet with a finger to her lips.

“How long has he been out?” Merlin whispered.

“Just after the play ended. He was so anxious; I finally got him to stop pacing. I didn’t have the heart to move him once he fell asleep.”

Merlin smiled softly. “I understand. So he doesn’t know yet?”

Gwen shook her head. “Corinakus whispered to me, but we let Arthur sleep. He’ll be doing plenty of mourning in the next couple days. We can give him one last sleep as prince.”

Merlin pressed his lips together thinly. Officially, Arthur was now king. Although he had many of the same duties as prince, Merlin knew he would feel the extra pressure and it would wear him out until he got used to it. “I can carry him back to his own bed so you can go to yours,” Merlin offered.

“Really, it’s fine,” Gwen protested. “Let him sleep. I can stay here.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re going to have a terrible crick in your neck for days and you know it. If he’s as exhausted as you say, he won’t wake up.”

“Alright, but on your own head be it.”

Merlin leaned down and scooped Arthur up in his arms, wordlessly casting a spell to keep him asleep while he did so. Arthur was a bit heavy, but nothing Merlin couldn’t handle with another silent spell. 

Gwen slowly stood and stretched out her back. “Thank you, Merlin.” Then she blinked. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Ealdor?”

“I’ll explain in the morning. Sleep first.” He turned away. “Goodnight, Gwen.”

“Sleep well, Merlin.


	25. Curtain Call - Part 2

Arthur slowly dragged himself into consciousness. There was faint light coming through the open window. That must mean it was morning already. Merlin usually woke him earlier than this. He closed his eyes again. Maybe he could enjoy a few more minutes of sleep. He heard his door open softly and careful footsteps walked across the room. Merlin was never that quiet. Oh. That’s right, Merlin was visiting his mother so he wouldn’t be rudely awakened. He laid with his eyes closed, listening to the sound of his temporary servant placing dishes on the table and straightening his desk. 

A niggling thought at the back of his mind was trying to tell him something. Something that was very important. He ignored it in favour of trying to fall back asleep. He’d been dreaming about something. Something that smelled nice. Maybe going on a picnic with Guenivere. Yes, that must’ve been it. 

Hold on, no servant sat down at his desk. No servant except Merlin. Arthur sat up and opened his eyes. Sure enough, Merlin was sitting at his desk, organising his papers as he did every morning he was here. 

“Merlin?”

“Good morning, your majesty,” Merlin replied gently without looking up. 

Arthur stared at him. He was too tired to completely process what was going on. He thought Merlin was going to be gone at least three more days. Or two more? It was too early for him to know what day it was. He just wanted to get back to that lovely dream.

Merlin’s eyes darted to his then back to the papers, avoiding eye contact. Suspicious.

“Weren’t you in Ealdor?”

“I arrived back last night.” He spoke carefully, the voice he used when trying not to spook a horse. Arthur was  _ not _ a horse. “I had a funny feeling that you would need me.” 

Why would he–oh. Arthur sank back into his pillows. His father.

The pain of last night rushed back to him. Seeing his father slumped in his chair, watching the knights carry his limb body, not knowing while Corinakus worked. 

“I cleared your schedule for the morning, but I can’t put off all the meetings,” Merlin reported after a minute, his voice comforting despite the banal words.  “Preparations for your father’s state funeral and your coronation have already begun.”

Arthur felt the weight sink into him, pressing him down into the bed. He didn’t feel sad, just empty. Empty and alone. Deep breaths. Focus on one thing at a time. Stick to a routine. Breakfast. He could do that. His favourite foods were laid before him. He mentally thanked Merlin for the thought. He slowly got out of bed and moved to slouch in the chair. He didn’t say much as he ate. He was remembering the night before.

Arthur remembered realising that his father had collapsed. He remembered the physician frowning and then telling him to leave the room. He remembered Guenivere’s comforting voice coaxing him to sleep.

Merlin had addressed him as ‘majesty.’

He laid down his fork, no longer hungry. “He’s dead then?” he asked quietly.

Merlin laid down the quill. “Yes.” He paused. “I’m told he passed in his sleep.”

Arthur pushed back from the table and started to dress for the day. Merlin had already put out clothes for him. There was a knock at the door and Arthur peeked out from behind the screen.

Merlin motioned for Arthur to stay quiet while he went to the door.

“Your majesty?” a muffled voice asked.

Merlin opened the door just a crack. “I expressly made sure his majesty would have no obligations until afternoon,” he said sternly. “What is this?”

“Decisions must be made about the vigil this evening,” the voice said. “We’ve done everything we could that doesn’t require the king’s approval, but we cannot delay any further.”

Merlin’s shoulders tensed. “It is written down? Wait here then.” 

The door shut, and Arthur finished dressing. Stepping out, he saw Merlin holding up a thick scroll. 

“The king is dead,” he muttered.

“Long live the king,” Merlin finished.

Merlin left Arthur in another meeting about coronation details and retreated to his underground office for some hope of peace and quiet. But it was not to be. There was a note from Iseildur on his message board. Merlin read it and groaned. 

He should’ve known that druids would want to attend the coronation of the Once and Future King. He wrote back to tell him that he would be able to sneak in ten druids; any more was too great a risk. But he would prepare simple disguises for each of them.

Merlin walked to the ledge and levitated ten small stones from the riverbed. At least he wouldn’t need to make any disguise very complicated. Arthur had already told Merlin it would be a public coronation. The druids just needed to not stand out as druids.

He cut lengths of twine for each necklace and laid them besides the stones. Then, he summoned his notes on disguises and a fresh sheet of paper. A spell for distraction would be useful, allowing the casual roaming eye to skip right over the wearer. That could go on the twine along with a basic protection charm.

The stones would be more work. He drew out the runic form of the spells to change hair colour, eyes colour, and hair length. Each druid would be able to choose an image they felt comfortable with by setting the runes Merlin would inscribe around the edge. 

Merlin continued working on combining the spells and funneling some of his own magic into the stone to power the spell until he distantly heard the bells chime out the late hour. He startled and cast a hurried shield charm over his work before running to the kitchens to fetch Arthur’s dinner.

Merlin had barely made it back to Arthur’s chambers before Arthur walked through the doors. Arthur had collapsed in his chair, more exhausted than Merlin had seen him in months. His eyes had seemed to stare without seeing and he had looked tense. He’d jumped when Merlin set the goblet down a little harder than normal. Dinner had passed silently and then Merlin had helped Arthur change into his loose white clothes for the vigil that night. 

Uther’s body had been on display in the Great Hall for the people of Camelot to pay their respects, but the evening was for Arthur alone. The body had been moved to a solitary chamber in the lower levels. 

It was that room that Merlin was currently sitting outside of. Arthur was inside, meditating and mourning. Merlin couldn’t help but hear the choked sobs as Arthur let himself get washed away by the grief. It was his one chance to do so before all attention turned to him and the coronation. It wasn’t required, but Merlin would be just outside the doors all night as well.

This was a turning point for Merlin, too. He wished he could talk with William right now; he would know the right words to say. Because even as Arthur mourned his father, a significant part of Merlin was celebrating. 

All his childhood, he had been raised in fear of this distant king who had slaughtered the dragons, chased his father far to the north, and would kill him just for having magic. He was the demon in his nightmares, the voice that ordered the pyre to be lit, the man with no heart. 

When Merlin had first come to Camelot, he had woken drenched in sweat many nights, now a face to the demon of the night. Even seeing the man during the day had made his hands shake unless they were clasped tightly behind his back. Every council meeting, every banquet, every family hunting trip had been a heart attack waiting to happen. So he could be forgiven for celebrating his death. He wouldn’t be alone either.

Merlin’s own magic was lighter than it had been in years. If he concentrated, he could feel the magical community celebrating.

While Camelot observed three days of mourning, outside the great stone walls of the city, there would be three days of celebration.

Lancelot had asked Merlin if he would need to sneak out and join them. He said he would be guarding the South gate; he could let him out. The desire to join the druids was like a physical tug, yet he declined. Arthur needed him more.

An uptight servant like George would say it was his duty to his master. Kilgharrah would say it was his connection to the other side of his coin. But Merlin knew it was far less complicated. Arthur was his friend. And friends were there for each other.

Speaking of, hesitant footsteps came down the spiral staircase to reveal Gwen. She sat down next to Merlin.

For a while they said nothing. Gwen broke the silence. “Arthur is lucky to have you.”

“He’s lucky to have both of us.”


	26. Curtain Call - Part 3

The second day of mourning was filled with meetings. Even Merlin got roped into some to help plan the move of Arthur’s things to his new chambers. Apparently, it was a rule that kings had to have a private passageway into the council chambers. Merlin thought it was dangerous. Already he would have to redo nearly all of his protection wards on a new room, but now, there was yet another entrance to consider. 

It was a meeting in the afternoon that Merlin was really interested in. Less of a meeting, more of a formal ceremony. Held in a small room that Merlin had not seen used for anything before, Arthur sat in an ancient wooden throne while Merlin sat at a small table next to him.

On the table was the formal contract of the Council. An agreement stating that they were there to represent their lands and their families, but they were also there to represent the people of Camelot as a whole and would do their utmost to advise the king in all such matters. It also spoke of their duty to raise concerns to the king and yet to remember that the king was the final decision maker. No council member should seek to form an unholy alliance and undermine the ruler’s decisions. 

Each council member came in one at a time to swear allegiance to the new king. The Lord of Atwater came first. He slowly walked into the room, his one medal on his jacket carefully polished to catch the candlelight. He gave a sweeping bow and leant to kiss Arthur’s ring. 

“Your majesty,” he said. “Serving your father, may he rest in peace, was an honour and a privilege that I cherished. I am honoured to renew my oaths now to his heir. You have shown great promise in the meetings you attended, and I wish only to remind you that I am a counselor for everything and often had your father’s confidence. Do not feel shy about asking for my wisdom so that you may be a wise leader in your own right.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you,” he said simply. “Please place your seal upon the contract.”

Merlin watched as Lord Atwater seemed to inspect each ribbon before realizing that Merlin was already pouring the wax over the end of the red one. “Place your seal there, sir, before the wax cools.”

Lord Atwater glanced up at Merlin, then darted a look to Arthur, before pulling out his seal with a flourish and stamping firmly into the wax. It looked to be some sort of fish, but all the embellishments made it hard to tell. 

“Thank you, Jonathon. You may send the next person in.”

Merlin watched as Lord Atwater’s smile dropped. Clearly, he had hoped to have more time. More time to influence the young king or just to establish himself as a confidant. But Arthur had no time for him. He traded a look with Merlin that said he hoped they weren’t all like this.

And they weren’t. The lords from Blackstone and Cavendish simply expressed their sympathy for Arthur’s loss and told him they supported his ascension before adding their own seal to the contract. Arthur thanked them and didn’t let his face reflect his emotions. Sir William came in as well. Though not a lord, the position of Record Keeper was also important and he had his own family seal.

Lord Markel of Gravenhunger was the next unusual one. He bowed and kissed Arthur’s ring as the others did. Then he spoke. “Your majesty, I am honoured to be able to serve you on your council, though it will be only for a short time. My second son is eager to become more involved and I am growing old. I gladly do place my seal upon the contract and I hope it serves for both me and my son, if you will have him.”

“Markel, you have always been a voice of wisdom,” Arthur said. “I do not know your sons well, but if you have raised both of them, I am sure there is no reason to deny him your position when you are ready to step down.”

“Thank you, my lord.” He bowed once again and then placed his seal on the purple ribbon. An eagle with wings outstretched, gripping lightning bolts in its claws. 

Merlin frowned at the impression. Something about it. It felt important. Merlin stared, not knowing what it was that was bothering him. It was just a crest. From a counselor who was kind and actually acknowledged Merlin when their paths crossed.

“Merlin?”

“Sorry, just thought his animal looked familiar.”

“It's called a crest,” Arthur said, trying to tease like he always did, but the delivery was flat. “And you’ve probably seen it on the training field. His eldest is training to be a knight. I’m pretty sure. I don't actually remember him.”

“Never mind.” Merlin shook the thought from his mind. “Don't see a reason why it would matter anyways. Who’s next?”

“Lord Eldrian of Gingerham.”

Merlin raised a brow. “The one whose cane you stole and whacked me with last year?”

Arthur scowled and opened his mouth to retort, but the door of the small chamber opened as Lord Eldrian hobbled in. Merlin ducked his head, but still, he smirked. He had won. This was the most emotion Arthur had shown all day and it was a small sign that although it would be rough for a while, Arthur would pull through. And with the speed that this man both walked and talked, Arthur would surely be bubbling over with annoyance by the time they could speak freely again. 

When they had finally finished, Merlin left Arthur to deliver the contract to Sir William while he dashed off to help with decorations. The Steward had warned him that under no circumstances would Merlin get out of decorating help. 

Merlin was merely glad he didn’t have to scrub the Great Hall. He had been to the feast of Beltane. Some of the knights still had too good of an arm while drunk, and he was sure there was still dried gravy on the ceiling.  

Instead, he agreed to make wreaths and garlands for the pillars. He took the needed supplies and hid in his cave. Sitting at his workbench, a flash of golden eyes had the garland weaving itself with flowers, berries, and protection charms. Meanwhile, he was able to finish working on the disguise necklaces for the Druids. A message from Iseildur said they would be arriving tomorrow night and Merlin knew he would have no time tomorrow to work on them. 

Besides, he needed time to test them. 

Since only Iseildur was a member of his network, Merlin made sure the druid chieftain would still be able to see through the illusion in case anything went wrong. And as such, he would need to be able to wear the charm, look in the mirror, and see only himself. This would take more work.

Two hours later, Merlin hung the necklaces around his neck and put the garlands back into the basket he had brought the supplies down in. First step first. If anyone noticed all of the necklaces he was wearing, he would know it hadn’t worked. Then, it was just a matter of swapping disguises when no one was looking. 

Gwen was rushing to her workshop when she bumped into a young woman. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” The castle was so busy today.

“No, no, don’t mind me.”

“Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you around?” Gwen asked. 

“I’m helping out with coronation preparations, nothing more.” She brushed a brown hair back from her face.

“Do you need directions anywhere?”

“No, thank you. I’m alright.” She hurried away and around a corner. 

Gwen watched her go. Something about her manner of speech seemed familiar. But perhaps she was just reminded of someone in the market or someone who had helped in the past. Many people had helped at large feasts in the past. Or maybe it was a girl who had been looking for a job in her workshop but didn’t have enough experience yet. It wasn’t terribly uncommon. 

“Excuse me?” Gwen shook her head to clear her thoughts and met the eyes of an older man standing in front of her. 

“Sorry, got lost in my thoughts,” she apologised. “Do you need something?”

“Do you happen to know where I can find Lord Merkel?” he asked. “I have a message for him.”

“His chambers are up two floors and on the right. If you need help, ask one of the guards in that wing.”

“Thank you very much, my lady.” He bowed slightly. 

“Oh, I’m not,” she started to protest but drifted off when she caught his wink. Then, she only rolled her eyes and continued to her workshop. She had to prepare for a fitting.

Arthur answered the knock at the door himself, seeing as his servant was mysteriously still missing. He didn’t think the decorations would take this long. An older woman he didn’t recognise was standing at the door, hands clasped behind her back. She gave a deep bow.

“Your majesty. I’ve been sent to tell you that it’s time for your fitting.”

“My fitting? Whatever for?” Arthur protested. This had  _ not  _ been discussed with him. “I plan on wearing my chainmail like I’ve done at every other ceremony.”

“I’m afraid that’s not the protocol, sire.” Her eyes didn’t leave the floor as she countered her king. “If you wish to argue, I suggest you take it up with Mistress Gwen.”

“I think I will. Tell her I shall be along in a minute.”

The woman bowed again and hurried off. 

Arthur grabbed his jacket and marched off to the workshop. He was  _ not  _ going to stand for this. His father would hear about—Arthur was also not going to stand for Merlin not being there to back him up.

“You there.” He pointed at a man who looked like he might be a servant. “Do you know where my manservant is?”

“No, sire. Shall I look for him?”

“Yes. And tell him he can find me in—” But Arthur stopped; the man had already turned his back and left. Most unusual for a servant. Unless that servant was Merlin. However, that man had short cropped red hair and was a more portly man than his servant could ever be, even if he ate an entire boar in one sitting. 

Arthur marched on. 

Merlin somehow beat him to Gwen’s workshop and was already in the fitting room when Arthur arrived. He decided to say nothing of it. “Guinevere,” he said instead. “Why do I have to suffer through a fitting? I have formal clothes that fit me already, and I won’t even be wearing them at the coronation. I’ll be wearing my armor.”

Gwen just picked up her tape measure. “That’s what you think. No king of Camelot has been crowned in armor and you aren’t about to start now. A formal set of clothes must be made, and we need to start immediately if they’re to be ready in time. Now off with your shirt; it’s far too baggy to get good measurements.”

Arthur glanced at Merlin. The last time he had been fitted, it was another man who had taken the measurements. He really wasn’t body shy; his tunic was off more often than it was on when training.

But this would be in front of Guinevere. The woman he was secretly courting. It suddenly seemed too much. 

“It’s nothing Gwen hasn’t seen before,” Merlin said helpfully. “She always goes out to fetch fresh water when you’re doing your morning run, and she starts her deliveries right near the end of practice so she can take a good long stare.”

“Merlin!” Gwen whacked him with her tape measure, and when he didn’t apologise, she grabbed one of her sewing needles from the basket behind her. She brandished it at him like a dagger.

“Alright, sorry!” Merlin said with a grin, hands thrown up in the air. “Don’t see why you’re getting mad at me for saying what everyone already knows.”

“Because Arthur didn’t know,” she hissed. “He didn’t need to know.”

“How about a fact in return? Arthur always makes sure his patrol route goes by your house twice on the chance that he might run into you.”

“How do you even know my patrol route?” Arthur asked. He wasn’t sure how to feel that Guinevere was watching him throughout the day. He thought it felt nice.

Merlin had the audacity to grin. “Notice he did  _ not  _ deny the truth.”

“True or not, Arthur Pendragon you take your shirt off now so I can get these measurements done,” Gwen demanded. “I have no time to waste, and I don’t want to ruin a needle by being forced to stab you with it.”

Arthur slowly pulled his tunic up over his head. Merlin  _ was _ right. He did take patrols by her house, but that was because he cared for her. Even if he wasn’t allowed to court her. He cared for both of them a lot. Now, he realised what Merlin had been trying to do all day. Somehow, he had known that Arthur would need some normal distractions in his day to keep him going. It did more than keep him going. It helped fill the empty feeling inside.

“And you, Merlin, I want no words out of you,” Gwen said. 

“Not even if it is to ask Arthur and you about the choice of flowers that will be permitted to be thrown at the coronation?” Merlin pulled a sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket. “Or about the napkin colour options for the feast that evening? Or what music shall be played? You know Arthur needs our help on anything artistic.”

Arthur finally cracked a smile at their antics. Gwen sighed. “Alright, fine. But Arthur can only move his mouth. Don’t even try to rile him.”

Arthur slumped in his chair, the last meeting of the day finally done. He didn’t have much to contribute and no one seemed to mind. It was mostly logistics for tomorrow and an update that the search for the players was still unsuccessful. They had utterly vanished. No one had even seen them leave the city gates. He knew he should care more, feel rage that the prime suspects for his father’s death were somewhere out there. But he was drained. 

“Arthur?” Leon was standing at his side. They were the only two left in the room. 

“Yes, Leon?” he asked wearily.

“As your knight, I’m inviting you over for dinner tonight, but as a friend, I’m giving you no choice.” Demands. That was most unlike Leon. “You had last night alone and that’s enough. I remember what it was like to lose a father and you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

That’s right. Leon had lost both his father and his step-father. “But Merlin—”

“Already knows. He warned me that you aren’t allowed to get drunk.” Leon was firm. “I’m taking you to my estate now. The others are already there.” He held out a cloak, a cloak of Arthur’s, for him to wear on the short ride. Where had he hid that during the meeting?

Arthur pushed himself to his feet. “As long as it’s not an inconvenience.”

“Dinner with an old friend never is.”

He was touched. It was easy to remember that Guinevere and Merlin were at his side supporting him, but of course the knights he trained with every day would also be there for him. That was part of their training, learning to rely on one another. On and off the battlefield.

Hood raised, Arthur and Leon rode through the light drizzle under the cloudy night sky. His estate was only a ten minute ride from the south gate of the city. The small path up to the gate was lit with torches and a stable boy was waiting to take their mounts. 

Once inside, Arthur pushed back his hood and looked around at the entry hall. It was cosy. Large tapestries covered every wall and the floor was painted a soothing deep brown, overlain with Leon’s family crest in gold. A staircase curved down from the right, and he saw Leon’s mother at the top. 

Ever sprightly even in at her age, she rushed down the stairs to greet him. “Oh, Arthur, you poor dear.” She grasped his hand tightly between her own, barely restraining herself from wrapping him in a hug. Arthur wasn’t sure he could hold it together if she did. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Your father and my first husband were such good friends I used to see him here all the time. They’d go hunting together you know and tell tales of the most wild beasts they pursued. Never did catch one but they told such stories.”

“Mother,” Leon interrupted her rambling.

“Yes of course, the other knights are waiting for you.” She gave Arthur’s hand another squeeze then stepped back. “Now, you let me know if you need anything. Need to talk, need advice, or just need to get out of that stuffy castle for the night, you will always be welcome here.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said and then followed Leon down the hall. He quickly scrubbed at his eyes, fighting the wetness. 

Leon led him to a humble dining room, hardly bigger than his own chambers, but the perfect size for a small meal. Lancelot was there, along with Bors and Percival. They assured him that more wanted to come, but Bors had thought a small group was best. Arthur agreed. 

It was the perfect group to recount adventures he and Bors had been on when they were younger, Leon told Lancelot and Percival what Arthur was like to have as a squire – he was an insufferable prat – and they in turn shared what it was like living on the road and travelling all across Albion. They laughed at each other’s follies, drank supportively when failures and losses were recounted, and by the time the servants came to clear the meal, Arthur felt refreshed. And a little tipsy. But he managed to stay on his horse and make it back to his own bed. At least he wasn’t as drunk as Bors. Leon had to tell him he could ride back to the city in the morning. 


	27. Curtain Call - Part 4

Emrys had been sleeping on his desk when Iseildur and the other nine druids arrived in the cave the night before the coronation. He had been impressed by the improvements. It was a far cry from the rough cave with hardly a thin blanket to sit on he had seen in the early days. 

Iseildur shook Emrys’s shoulder gently to rouse him. He woke immediately and explained how to use the necklaces. Emrys had mentioned what his plan was in their messages, but even so, he was surprised. Then, he showed them where to find the small boat that would guide them upstream in the morning so they could enter the city proper with the rest of the crowd. He cautioned them to break off into smaller groups before they came in through the gates. Iseildur then told him to get some rest and Emrys stumbled back through the glowing wall, muttering darkly about the stupidity of coronations at dawn. 

Iseildur, however, was impressed by the timing. The coronation of the Once and Future King marked the dawn of a new age. The beginning of a new chapter in Albion. A restart for magic in this world. And walking through the city gates, the sky just barely a peony pink, he couldn’t help but admit the future was looking bright. 

Everyone else was in high spirits as well. Children were pulling their parents along, eager to reach the citadel and see their prince become king. The guards formed a pathway to control the crowd, and even though they were supposed to be serious, most of them were smiling and they all had a white lily pinned on their uniform. 

When Iseildur and the two other druids in his small group reached the main doors to the citadel, he was also handed a white lily. As it passed into his hand, he felt a short burst of magic, probing his intentions. It was so brief he knew it didn’t look very deep, but he wondered still more at Emrys’s dedication and skill. 

Following the crowd through the side doors into the Great Hall, his magical senses became aware of Emrys’s aura. It seemed to come from all around, dancing around the room and bubbling with his innate joy, heightened by the occasion. Despite how tired he was last night, Iseildur knew Emrys had been looking forward to this day as much as he had. Likely only a few in the room could sense the extra magic, but everyone had their own, much smaller aura that was no doubt filled with their own joy.

The crowd was full of smiles, chattering excitedly. The knights in the front and lining the walls of the room were full of pride. The nobles near the front were also smiling, decked out in their brightest colours. 

On the dias itself, the throne was front and centre. It had been retouched for a new king. The heart of it remained, but there was a new scarlet cushion, new gemstones in the top, and the wood had been touched up to refine the edges and stain it a lighter colour. 

To the right of the chair, an elderly man stood in white robes, trimmed with red. He held a large book in his arms and stood beside the crown, which rested on a table. The court record keeper. Iseildur thought he looked a little familiar. His name was something with a ‘Wil’ at the start, but it had been far too long since Iseildur had formally been to Camelot.

And of course, on the other side of the crown, stood Emrys. He was dressed in more finery than usual and that alone lifted Iseildur’s spirits. 

The man in question seemed to feel his gaze and met Iseildur’s eyes.  _ I still object to the early hour. _

Iseildur chuckled.  _ You don’t really. You’re too busy being proud of Arthur, I can feel it. Just know I’m proud of you too. _

_ Thank you, Iseildur. _

Emrys turned his eyes to the main door just before it opened. Iseildur turned as well. And there stood the king, Arthur, motionless as silence fell and all eyes turned to him. 

Iseildur watched with pride as the young man walked up the aisle. He wore all white, with a thick cape of red that flowed behind him, trimmed neatly with black fur. He held a gold scepter in his right hand and a gilded, carved model of the citadel in his left. Slowly, stately, Arthur proceeded to the dias and sat upon the throne.

There was a stillness, like the whole world was holding its breath. 

The record keeper, William, he now remembered, stepped forward. “People of Camelot, I here present unto you, Arthur Pendragon, your undisputed king. Wherefore all you who are come this day to do your homage and service, are you willing to do the same? Nobles, who set an example in patronage, are you willing?”

As one voice, the nobles answered, “We are willing.”

The record keeper spoke again. “Knights of Camelot, whose swords defend our lives, are you willing?”

The knights saluted and answered, “We are willing.”

“The extended council, who represent the industry of Camelot, are you willing?”

It was less rehearsed, but with no less fervor that they responded, “We are willing.”

“Finally, people of Camelot, without you there is nothing. Are you willing?”

Iseildur joined his voice with everyone else in the room as they all called out, “We are willing.”

A small group of individuals then left the front row and stepped up to kneel at the dias. A knight with curly red hair stood up first.

“Your highness, I here present you with the humble spurs which represent chivalry. May they serve you well.”

Emrys stepped forward and took the spurs. He briefly showed them to Arthur and then placed them on the empty altar to the left of the throne. 

A man robed in white stepped forth. “Your highness, I here present you with the cross of Christ which represents spirituality. May it serve you well.”

Again, Emrys presented the gift and then put it aside. 

A young noble born girl stepped forward. “Your highness, I here present you with an olive branch which represents peace. May it serve you well.”

Emrys took the branch with a smile and again, showed it to Arthur before setting it down.

An elderly man then stepped forward. “Your highness, I here present you with the Sword of State which represents justice. May it serve you well.”

Emrys carefully took the bare blade and lifted it for Arthur to see. The candlelight glinted off the blade and reflected around the room.

The last individual stepped forward, and Iseildur knew this woman as Gwen from talking with Emrys. “Your highness, I here present you with a gold ring which represents your marriage to the land. May it serve you well.”

Emrys took this with a smile and knelt before Arthur to slide it onto the third finger of his left hand. Arthur kept his eyes locked on Gwen as he did so. Emrys then returned to the right of the throne and the gift bearers walked back to their places. 

William traded the book in his arms for the crown on the table. He lifted it high. "Oh God, the crown of the faithful; bless we beseech thee and sanctify this thy servant our king, and as thou dost this day set a crown of pure gold upon his head, so enrich his royal heart with thine abundant grace, and crown him with all princely virtues through the King Eternal Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Arthur then stood from his throne and knelt. William moved to stand in front of him, holding the crown at his chest. 

“Do you swear to rule according to the laws and customs set down by your predecessors?” William asked. 

“I do so swear.”

“Do you swear to respect the wisdom of those around you to form a more wise kingdom?”

“I do so swear.”

“And do you swear to protect the people with your heart, mind, body, and soul?”

“I do so swear to do all this and more. So help me God.”

William then turned to face the crowd and lifted the crown on high again. "With a crown of glory and righteousness, I then bestow upon you the crown of a Once and Future King to rule in the kingdom eternal.”

Iseildur raised an eyebrow. That last declaration was one of the very few which could be altered, but he hadn’t expected those words. Looking at Emrys, he could see the man beaming with pride, his eyes watching naught but Arthur. 

The people cried amen and William turned back around and placed the crown on Arthur’s head. He stepped to the side so the people had an unobstructed view of their king. 

Arthur stayed with his head bowed, and the noble men cried out, “Vivat! Vivat! Vivat!”

Arthur looked up at the crowd and the people called out, “Long live the king! Long live the king! Long live the king!”

Arthur stood tall and the first rays of dawn shot through the windows behind him to reflect off the many jewels in the crown and create a halo of light around the king’s head. The people cheered and their exaltation echoed throughout the room. Shining gold, Arthur stood tall and looked out at the jubilant crowd. 

Iseildur wiped the tears from his face. His grandson beside him squeezed his hand tight, tears also on his cheeks. 

Arthur raised his arms for silence. “People of Camelot,” he began. “It is my absolute honour to be crowned as your king. My father instilled in me a pride for this great kingdom and I am proud to be your king, but above all, I am your servant. For as Sir William rightly said, Camelot is nothing without all of you.”

Some scattered applause broke out during his pause. 

“I have in sincerity pledged myself to your service, as so many of you are pledged to mine. Throughout all my life and with all my heart I shall strive to be worthy of your trust. It is my intention to make Camelot a fair and just kingdom for all of her people.”

Iseildur thought his heart skipped a beat. Did that mean what he thought it meant? He looked to Emrys; he was smiling widely. 

“There are changes I wish to implement, but I plead for your patience; I wish to take things slow and solve problems that occur along the way.”

Emrys glanced very briefly his way and gave a small nod. Iseildur put his arm around his grandson and joyfully hugged him.  

“As my father before me, I will continue to hold open court and I encourage you to bring your concerns to my attention. This is how we make Camelot a better kingdom. But for today, let us all enjoy the sunshine and the feast this evening. God be with you all.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and more shouts of “Long live the king!” Iseildur’s throat was tear choked, yet still he cried out, “Vivat, Vivat! Long live the king!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, Arthur is officially king. Huzzah! 
> 
> It also means that it is time for a regularly scheduled break in posting. I am going to be crazy busy with the Bond fandom in July so this story will resume posting on August 5th. Tell all your friends that this is a great time to get caught up with the story. It's halfway done and there isn't a big cliffhanger for them to worry about. 
> 
> Thanks for all the favs and reviews so far; I'll see you all again in August.


	28. Heads Will Roll - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's August and I'm back! Time to see discover what new changes might be coming now that Arthur is king.

“Merlin.” A stern voice stopped the manservant in his tracks. “I gave you some time during the transition, but you can’t run from your duty anymore.”

Merlin turned around and tried to rest the laundry basket on his hip. He never liked talking to the Steward. He only ever sought Merlin out when he was in trouble. “Good afternoon,” he greeted, forcing cheer into his voice. “What am I supposed to be doing? I wasn’t aware you had assigned me anything.”

The Steward’s arms were crossed and his brows were intimidating. “This is nothing I have control over. Did you forget that when the king received his crown, your position would also be elevated?”

Merlin stared blankly.

“You are officially head of the household now.”

Merlin was as still as a statue. 

“I see that you had forgotten that. Ally!” he called to another servant down the hall. “Come and do Merlin’s laundry for him while we talk.”

Ally hurried over and gently tugged the basket from Merlin. “You’re the only one who forgot, silly,” she whispered. She bumped him with her free hip and propelled him stumbling after the Steward. Merlin hadn’t even noticed him starting to walk away.

Thankfully, that was all Merlin really needed to pull himself out of his stupor. He hurried to catch up. “Oh no, I can’t,” he protested. “I’m far too busy. And I’m not cut out for leadership. No one takes me seriously and honestly no one should trust me to make decisions.”

“Merlin.” The Steward stopped in front of a door. “Save the protests for someone who cares.” He pushed open the door. “You know most of the servants look to you as their leader already, right?”

Merlin chose to ignore that last statement as the blatant lie that it was. He followed the Steward into the small room and sat at the table where Uther’s manservants, former manservants now, were sitting. Merlin felt outnumbered. He was also very aware that he was younger than everyone else in the room. 

“We understand that it can be a bit of a transition, so Andrew will help guide you through your duties for the first week.”

No getting out of it, was there? He’d just have to muddle his way through. Merlin nodded at Andrew. “I appreciate it.”

Andrew leaned forward and slid a piece of paper across the table. “I understand you already know how to read, so I made a short list of things you may find helpful.”

Reading over the list, Merlin sank down in his chair. He couldn’t do all of this. Placing new servants where they best belong, managing interpersonal relationships, and so much organisation of people. He hardly had time to finish all of his chores for Arthur without resorting to magic. And that was in a normal week that didn’t involve an attack by a sorcerer or chaos caused by a magical beast. 

“I honestly do  _ not  _ have enough time to do this well,” Merlin said. 

“We’ve talked about that,” the Steward said. “We’re assigning the king another manservant.”

Merlin sat up straight. “What? No, you can’t fire me!”

Before Merlin could really get going on a rant, Andrew interrupted. “Not firing, just giving you an assistant. I couldn’t do everything without Em and Chet to assist me.”

Merlin relaxed. “Who did you have in mind?”

“I’ve volunteered,” Chet spoke up. “Arthur has had a lot of training to be king, but no real experience. You haven’t been trained to serve a king. You know Arthur best, but I have the experience of serving a king.”

He called him Arthur. Merlin wasn’t aware that any other servants left off the titles of the royals. And he was right. Already, Arthur had double the amount of papers on his desk in the morning. 

“Before Uther’s death, you outranked me,” Merlin said slowly. “You won’t mind answering to me now?” The hierarchy among the servants had caught Merlin off guard when he first came to Camelot. He certainly hadn’t understood why everyone was so jealous that he had become Arthur’s servant. It wasn’t like Arthur treated his servants well. But now that he knew, he was careful to respect the rankings. 

“You have a good head on your shoulders. I don’t believe you would abuse a position of superiority. I’m sure it will take a little time for us to learn each other’s territory, but within the week we’ll make it work.”

Merlin nodded then turned to the Steward. “I accept then.” He had little choice. 

“I’ll make the necessary adjustments.”

“May I make a request?” Merlin asked. Perhaps he could be smart about his acceptance though. “I understand that I cannot refuse the position of head of household, but can I appoint a regent of sorts? Arthur is a young king, and although he hasn’t yet realised he’ll have less time to leave the city, I know he’ll still go out whenever he can and I’ll go with him. If I’m not here, there should be someone else who can deal with any difficulties that come up.”

The others nodded, hopefully seeing his logic. 

“I’m presuming you would ask me to take that role,” Andrew said. A quirk of his lips said he knew where this idea came from. 

“Of course. And this way your job isn’t completely gone.”

The Steward shook his head with a smile. “I don’t know whether to applaud you for already paying attention to others’ needs or to scold you for weaseling out of responsibility.”

Merlin grinned. “I put in a vote for the former.”

Merlin had been serving in Camelot for five years, so it wasn’t as if Chet didn’t know Merlin was unlike the average servant. He still remembered the bumbling farm boy who spoke and wrote well, yet knew nothing of the serving life. Chet had witnessed the wonder of Audrey giving the boy food instead of swatting his hand with a spoon. He had also watched Merlin turn around and sneak that food to someone else. He also remembered the boy speaking in court and seemingly acting more dumb that Chet suspected he was.

And yet he was still surprised by the relationship he had with the king.

Monday morning, Chet stood outside Arthur’s chamber doors, listening for sounds inside. The guards at the end of the short corridor had said Merlin left late last night, but surely he should’ve returned by now. Well, he would do his best to help out. He knocked on the door, but still hearing no answer, he walked inside. He set down the full breakfast tray on the table and walked to the bed. 

It was odd to be waking up someone younger than him. Arthur looked even younger in his sleep, bare chested, legs tangled in sheets, and hugging an extra pillow. Chet felt an unexpected feeling of protectiveness grip him; he wondered if he would feel this all the time when his child was born.

Shaking away his musings, he reached out and gently shook Arthur’s shoulder. “Sire, you must wake up.”

Arthur groaned slightly, but didn’t show any signs of waking. Chet shook him again.

“That never works.”

Chet whirled, surprised to see Merlin leaning casually against the door. He hadn’t heard him come in.

“Don’t worry about waking him, I’ll take care of that every morning.” Merlin pushed himself off the wall and walked across the room. “I’ll have to show you what Arthur actually needs for breakfast though. That’s far too much.”

“Too much?” Chet repeated. He had fetched what he usually got for Uther.

“Yes, he prefers a larger lunch rather than breakfast. If I forget, ask Ally in the kitchen, she knows. Anyway, this is the best way to wake him.” He raised his left hand, closed in a fist that was slightly wet. The smile on his face was full of mischief. “Be ready to duck.”

Chet stepped away from the bed and watched in amazement as Merlin tore open all the curtains, blasting the room with light.

“Rise and shine!” he called in an unnecessarily loud voice.

Arthur groaned louder. “Go way, Merlin.” He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. 

Merlin grinned wider. Leaning over, he placed the small chunk of ice on the back of Arthur’s neck, right below his hairline, and then dropped to the ground, rolling under the bed. 

As strange as it was, that was evidently the right choice.

“Merlin!” Arthur roared as he flailed about in bed, swatting the ice off the back of his neck. Chet could hear Merlin’s giggles from under the bed. Arthur threw a pillow in the direction of the windows. 

“Merlin you little sneak, I’m going to get you for that.” He shoved the blankets angrily off from his legs and swung them over the side of the bed. He stumbled on his landing. “Blast this bed. Merlin! I want this bed lowered to a proper height.”

Merlin rolled out from under the bed on the side opposite Arthur. “Maybe if you were a little taller it wouldn’t be such an issue.”

“For the last time, we are the same height!” Arthur grabbed a goblet from the bedside table and threw it across the bed at Merlin, leftover water falling on the bed. 

Merlin ducked quickly. “Your aim suggests that you think I’m taller than you; you can’t deny it.”

“I must have aimed too high.”

“Oh, so now the legendary Arthur has poor aim?” Merlin teased even as he picked up the goblet and set it on a table on his side of the room. “What would the people say if they knew their king had all those years of training and couldn’t hit a target just across a bed? What would Leon say?” Merlin gasped in mock horror. 

Arthur looked for another goblet but found none. He picked up a pillow instead. “If my aim needed work, which it doesn’t - ” Merlin easily danced out of the way of the thrown pillow. “ - he would surely support using you as a target for how insolent you always are.”

“Why don’t you have your breakfast and then we can talk,” Merlin suggested. “You’re always irritable before you’ve eaten. Besides, Chet doesn’t yet know your preferences so you have a special breakfast this morning. Enjoy it before I train him.”

Arthur turned to the table, looked at the food, then up at Chet, seemingly only just now noticing the other person in the room. Merlin slipped out of the room while Arthur was distracted. 

Chet didn’t bother standing like a perfect servant. He wouldn’t have been able to hide his smile anyways. “Good morning, sire,” he said. Chet moved around the table to pull out Arthur’s chair.

“That’s, er, you don’t need to do that,” Arthur said as he sat. He laid his napkin on his lap. “You were one of my father’s servants, correct?”

Chet raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I was.”

“Don’t look so surprised.” Arthur looked around the room. “Don’t tell Merlin, but he’s taught me to pay more attention to the servants. I don’t know what your relationship was with my father, but if I am acting like a  _ prat _ , as Merlin is so fond of saying, don’t be afraid to tell me.” Arthur took a bite of ham and chewed it carefully. “I may not thank you at the time, but hindsight has shown me that Merlin—and don’t tell him this either—is usually right.” He stuffed a forkful of hash browns in his mouth.

A classic Pendragon method to end a conversation. Arthur probably picked it up from his father without realising it. Obligingly, Chet moved on. “I know your father gave you some training in how to be a king, but there are smaller details he entrusted us to pass on.” 

He walked into the adjacent office and returned with the wooden box of documents that had been delivered early that morning. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the box has more in it now that you’re king.”

Arthur nodded.

“Let me show you the first trick.” Chet opened the box and set the pile of papers on the table. “The top five documents are likely important.” He took these documents and set them aside. “But after that you want to flip the stack.”

“Why?” Arthur asked as Chet put the flipped papers back in the box.

“Because the counselors are sneaky,” Chet replied. “They hide the things they don’t want you to see at the bottom. Tax raises they’re going to implement on their own lands, a private trade deal, or sometimes a larger salary.”

“I’d never noticed.”

“That’s because I flip it for you.”

Chet started and slammed the lid harder than planned. Arthur didn’t react to Merlin’s sudden reappearance. 

“Once I started sorting your papers for you, I noticed the trend.” Merlin closed the wardrobe. “But if I didn’t have time to sort it, I made sure I flipped it for you.”

“And you didn’t inform me?”

Merlin shrugged. “You trusted me to sort the documents; didn’t think you cared how. What I do care about now is getting you dressed for training, unless you would prefer to miss the one time I squeezed in for you to train with the knights?”

Arthur leapt from his chair. No training was necessary for Chet to learn that particular trick of Merlin’s.

A week and a half later and routines had been settled into. Merlin woke up Arthur in the morning while Chet brought breakfast. Merlin sorted documents while Chet helped Arthur dress. Most other chores alternated between the two servants, and Merlin learned that he had more time to himself.

He spent his time writing letters to friends outside of Camelot and actually studying books of magic. Particularly a book intended for teachers of magic covering the basics. 

What he was enjoying most, however, was the chance to sit with Gwen at the joust celebrating the coronation.

He arrived late on purpose, lingering in the library before leisurely strolling out to the tournament ring. He waited for a break in the action before sliding onto the bench next to Gwen.

“Merlin!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m watching the joust.” He smiled widely at her. 

She swatted his arm. “You know what I mean.”

“The people needed to see that Chet is officially Arthur’s servant now.” Merlin waved in the direction of the Royal stands. Arthur was sitting on a plain chair, not the overly ornate one Uther had preferred. Behind him, Chet was the image of a perfect servant. He saw when Chet saw his wave leading him to scowl slightly. “Arthur can’t stand not being able to compete,” Merlin explained. “He’s been complaining all week. I had to blackmail him in order to convince him that competing in disguise was not an option.”

“Who would host if he competed?” Gwen added. “I can’t see Leon doing it.”

Merlin shook his head. “I can’t see anyone else being loud enough.” He turned his attention to the match. “Besides, you and I both know he couldn’t stand being anonymous during this whole tournament. Who are you supporting?”

Gwen lifted the scrap of blue fabric in her lap. “Blue. Specifically the blue diamond.”

“Are you sure that’s who you want to support?” he asked slyly.

“Why? Do you know who it is?” She shoved Merlin when he said nothing. “You do. Tell me!”

“Nope, that would spoil all the fun.” Merlin smiled wide, hiding the niggling feeling that had surfaced. When he had looked at the roster, there was no blue diamond. Someone had entered late. 

And with a tournament like this, it could be anyone. The competitor could hide his face beneath the helmet. Perhaps he was sent to kill Arthur. Arthur wasn’t competing, sure, but he was a stationary target, perfect for a long range attack. 

“Merlin? Is something wrong?”

But maybe it was only a knight who signed up late and therefore nothing to worry about. “It’s been quiet and calm for too long,” Merlin muttered, putting his elbows on his legs and resting his chin in his hands. “This is Camelot; there’s always trouble. What am I missing?”

Gwen put her arm around Merlin and pulled him into a hug. “This is just leftover stress from the transition. The coronation went smoothly, Arthur’s chambers are properly set up and decorated, invitations and announcements for the celebration have been sent out, and you’re settling into your new role as the head of the household.”

Merlin put his head in his hands. “Don’t remind me about that one.”

“You know Arthur asked me to make you nicer clothes.”

Merlin raised his head to look at her in surprise. “Really? We’re talking about the same Arthur here? Or is the Steward’s name Arthur, too?”

“No, silly. His name is Kay. How did you not know that? Yes, Arthur asked me to get you nice clothes. He tried to say it was because he was king now and didn’t want you to give a bad impression, but you know he really cares. He even knew what colours you prefer.”

Merlin put his head on Gwen’s shoulder. The crowd cheered as the green circle knight unhorsed the knight wearing black circles. “Still worried though.”

“Hey, come on now. Enjoy your time off. You always take on too much responsibility. You aren’t the only one who cares about Camelot and the king. There are knights, guards, and everyone who works in the castle. You aren’t alone, so stop acting like you are.” Gwen glanced up at the angle of the sun. “Up you get, you and I are going to have an early lunch at the Chalice. This moping is nothing food can’t fix.”


	29. Heads Will Roll - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm it may have completely passed my by that yesterday was Monday. Whoops.

The guards gave him a cursory glance, but let Gilli through the main gates of Camelot. This was the first time he had walked through the archway since the tournament he’d planned to kill the king. Although his sister was happily living with the druids now, it had seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up. But Merlin was right; the time hadn’t been right. He wondered what had finally killed Uther; the network was filled with rumours and he didn’t know what to believe. 

He would ask Merlin, but Merlin would have to actually answer the messages Gilli left for him. He kicked a small rock and sent it flying down the empty road. What use was this magical quill if the idiot didn’t respond?

There was only so long Gilli could wait. News of Camelot’s new king had reached Odin’s land and something had shifted. The knights were training harder, the taxes rose. Signs of trouble in Gilli’s book. Not to mention Fairefellow had reported similar unrest in Alined’s kingdom. There was only so long Gilli would wait in the woods. 

So Gilli found himself following the sounds of cheers to the tournament arena. Undoubtedly Merlin would be serving Arthur in his tent or watching him compete. Although, when he got closer, he realised that Arthur probably would not be competing. So he changed directions. 

Sure enough, Gilli managed to squeeze through the crowd and saw Arthur in the royal box. However, that was not Merlin at his side. In fact, he couldn’t see Merlin anywhere. The strange man poured more water into Arthur’s mug and walked down to refill the pitcher. Gilli slipped through the people milling around and reached the royal tent just as the other man walked back out with a full pitcher. 

“Excuse me,” Gilli said. “Are you the king’s manservant?”

“Yes I am,” the other replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Only wondering. Thanks.” Gilli hurried off. This was more than just an unanswered letter. Arthur had a new manservant. Merlin would never let that happen. Which meant something had happened to Merlin. Gilli could think of two reasons for Arthur’s change in servants. 

The first was that Merlin had been captured outside of Camelot. Someone out for revenge had found him when he was alone and was torturing him for information. Or even some bounty hunter who captured him for his magic. Iron shackles prevented him from escaping. But even then, Gilli tried to have faith that Merlin would find a way out of that. 

However, the other reason wasn’t looking much better. Now that Arthur was King, Merlin may have decided the time was right to tell Arthur of his magic. Merlin hated lying to him, but when Uther was king, it would’ve been just plain stupid. And now, maybe he told him and it hadn’t gone well. He could be in the dungeons. Gilli knew Merlin could escape those, but his bloody noble heart would be sitting there proving that Arthur could trust him. Gilli needed to kick him of that habit. Arthur wasn’t nearly as smart as Merlin believed he was.

Gilli was nearly running now, but he caught a glance from a patrolling guard and slowed slightly. No need to draw unneeded attention. He just needed to get inside without anyone recognising him from the tournament. He’d only made it to the second round anyways. Still, he hoped that any past competitors would be at the tournament, rather than guarding, but his luck had never been that great. 

He didn’t know his way around the citadel, so he ended up in front of the main door. A guard asked his purpose. “I need to visit the library, can you give me directions?” 

The guard looked skeptical. 

“Don’t give me that look.” Gilli scowled. “I can read.”

The guard gave him directions and Gilli walked inside. He only used the library as an excuse, it worked in nearly every kingdom, but he remembered that Merlin lived with Camelot’s librarian. Maybe, just maybe, William would be able to help him talk some sense into Merlin.

Gilli marched down the hall, muttering about Merlin’s idiocy. Bursting into the library, he cared not for the usual rule of silence. “William, what trouble did Merlin get himself into now? He hasn’t answered my last message.” He received no answer to his question either. 

William was not at his desk. As far as he could tell, there was only an elderly man sitting at a study table, hunched over a book. A servant with a dusting stick poked her head out and confirmed that William was not there. To the dungeons then. 

Except he didn’t know the way to the dungeons. He had been in such a cloud of anger the first time that he couldn’t remember how he had eventually found his way down there. He only knew that it was accessible via tunnels in Merlin’s cave. So it had to be underground. Which could mean anything when your castle was on a hill. Regardless, he had to go down. 

Gilli took his father’s ring off his necklace and twisted it onto his finger, a determined glint in his eye. He would try to avoid using magic, but Camelot was not friendly territory and he intended to save Merlin. 

He didn’t know where he was going, but he walked with purpose. Servants stepped out of his way and he easily lied to a low level guard. He found many dead ends, but finally, he found a staircase that led down deep enough. Unfortunately, the guards were more vigilant here. As was to be expected.

“Halt.” The guards crossed their pikes across the corridor. “What business do you have down here?” 

“My friend is being held down here, and I demand to be able to speak to him,” Gilli said, standing defiantly. “He’s done nothing wrong and if only I can talk to him, I can sort this mess out.”

The guards exchanged a look. “What makes you think your friend is down here?”

“He hasn’t replied to my messages in far too long, he’s let someone else take his job, and he’s nowhere to be found.”

“So you think he’s in here?”

“Where else would the idiot be? He probably thinks sitting quietly down here is noble or some nonsense.”

“Have you been sick recently?”

“What? I had a cough, but I don’t see how this is relevant.”

“Perhaps you’ve hit your head recently.”

“Only against the wall when I realised what had happened. I still don’t see why, hey!”

The guards nodded at each other and the taller one lifted Gilli off his feet. “I’ll take him to the physician.”

“What? No! Put me down! Put me down now!”

But no matter how Gilli protested, the guard continued to carry him away from the dungeons and away from Merlin. Gilli was just contemplating a spell to stop the guard, even if it meant falling to the ground, when a new voice got the guard to stop. 

“Karsi, wait. You can set him down.”

“I was taking him to the physician,” the guard replied. “He was raving about a friend of his sitting in the vaults.”

Merlin, for that was who the new voice was, chuckled. “He isn’t ill, just confused. He was looking for me.”

“Merlin, why haven’t you answered my letters?” Gilli demanded from where he was still hanging over the guard’s shoulder. 

“Because I haven’t read them yet,” Merlin snapped back. “Now Karsi, if you could let my friend back onto his feet, he and I apparently need to talk.”

Gilli was set back on his feet, and he faced Merlin, relief and anger warring in his eyes. He opened his mouth but closed it again as Merlin raised his hand. 

“You can return to your post, Karsi. I’ll take him to the library with me and make sure he won’t get in your way again.” 

The guard thanked Merlin and walked off. 

Now, Merlin turned to Gilli. “You’re lucky Alice came and found me to say someone was looking for me. Now this had better be important enough to interrupt my lunch with Gwen. I had to leave a really good plate of dumplings.”

“If you had seen my message, you would know how important it is.”

“Oh dear. Well, to the library then.”


	30. A Grave Grove - Part 1

Arthur sighed, a soft smile on his face. “There is  _ nothing  _ better than patrol on a warm summer day.”

“Not even a three-day feast?” Merlin teased. 

“Not even if it was all of my favourite foods and you were the fool for the evening.” As entertaining as that might be to imagine, he preferred having Merlin at his side. 

He glanced right and could see Merlin understood. It had been too long since they had properly been able to relax. New positions meant new responsibilities, and Arthur wasn’t so blind as to assume Merlin wasn’t also feeling the pressure. Sure, Chet was an enormous help, but Arthur saw the way Merlin sat heavily at the table after dinner. It matched his own exhaustion. 

So when Merlin said he had managed to clear a day to go for a ride, Arthur moved fast. He gathered some knights, Merlin gathered supplies, and by dawn hooves were pounding down the cobblestone path to the forest.

Arthur was mostly letting his horse choose their path, but when he saw a clearing, he directed them over and they broke for lunch.

Merlin prepared an excellent stew while Sir Bors cooked a rabbit he had caught in the morning. They talked happily while they ate, but the after-meal weariness compounded with the late July heat and a comfortable silence fell.

Arthur lay on his back, eyes closed. He let the sound of birds wash away last night’s extended council session. The whisper of wind through the leaves replaced the sound of endless documents on his desk. The warmth of the sun, well, the warmth just vanished. He opened his eyes and saw Merlin leaning over him.

“Merlin, I hope you have a good reason for blocking my sun.”

“I was looking for a stream to refill our water supply but there wasn’t one nearby so I wandered a bit further; I thought for sure I would get lost.” 

Arthur propped himself up his elbows while Merlin continued. 

“Obviously I didn’t, but I remembered that you like exploring caves and I thought to myself, Arthur might be interested in this. I can’t remember coming across this cave before so maybe Arthur hasn’t either. Anyway there was a waterfall so I filled up the water skins but I thought you would want to know about the cave.” Merlin grinned. “After all, who knows when the next time the king will be able to escape from Court?”

Damn that man. He knew there was no way Arthur would say no. Looking around he saw the other knights were ready to mount, only waiting for his word. “Merlin, you have got to stop giving orders to the knights,” Arthur grumbled as he stood. “Especially since they seem to listen.”

“I don’t order them, I ask them nicely. You should try it sometime.”

“Merlin?”

“Yes, sire?”

“Kindly shut up and lead the way.”

“Since you asked nicely.”

Arthur could hear one of his knights snickering, but he didn’t want to know who. Instead he followed Merlin through the forest. Soon Arthur could hear the sound of water and then he saw the waterfall. The waterfall which was cascading over the cave entrance. 

Merlin immediately dismounted and hopped across the pond on the stone path.

“You neglected to mention the cave was through the water,” Arthur called. “How did you even find it?”

Merlin jumped the last gap onto the large rock in front of the waterfall. He turned and grinned. “You can’t tell me you are afraid of a bit of water.” He flung his arms out and backed into the falls. “Ah! It feels so good. Nice and refreshing.”

Arthur couldn’t think of a good retort. He tied his horse’s lead to a tree branch and crossed the water, his knights following behind. Merlin had already gone further into the cave so Arthur didn’t linger in the waterfall, though it did feel refreshing. 

The cave entrance was dark, but Arthur could see it was brighter further in. Perhaps there were skylights. Merlin was far ahead , though, and he hurried to catch up.

Arthur followed his servant through twists in the cave but nearly ran into Merlin around the next corner. He understood why Merlin had stopped when he saw what was in front of them.

Before him was a lush garden to rival any he had ever seen. An explosion of colour nearly blinded him. Sunlight shone on the yellow flowers, the green vines, the white lily-of-the-valley that Gwen loved, and the humble wildflower he was told his mother had favoured. The plants climbed the cave walls and spread across the ground, leaving only a few narrow paths to walk. When the initial shock wore off, Arthur noticed something else: whispers.

Standing next to him, Merlin could hear the voices too. He heard them clearer than the others. The whispers seemed to come from everywhere, even speaking in different languages. It was quite distracting. He forced himself to focus, trying to pinpoint what had drawn him to the cave, and found himself drawn to one clump of light pink begonias. He slowly walked forward. The other whispers faded and he only heard one voice calling with one word. 

_ Emrys _

Arthur looked around but none of the knights were whispering. Merlin walked further in and Arthur moved as well. He thought he could hear whispers coming louder from his left. He carefully walked along the path, taking care not to step on the plants. The path ended before a large clump of wildflowers. He bent over, breathing in the sweet smell.

_ Arthur _

He jerked back.  The voice was feminine, gentle. It tugged at something within him. Like he should recognise it. “Who said that?” He looked around, but the path had led him far from the others. He eyed the flowers suspiciously. They swayed gently, nodding almost, but there was no breeze. “Great, I am talking to flowers.” Merlin would absolutely tease him for this. 

_ Do not be afraid. I merely have a message for you, my son. _

His heart skipped a beat in shock. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. “Mother?” he asked breathlessly. “But how?” 

_ This cave is a special place. On certain days the dead may use it to speak to their loved ones. _

He wanted to believe her. The stinging in his eyes knew what his brain was slower to accept. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

_ You don’t. You must trust what is in your heart. _

Arthur smiled through his tears. “Merlin is fond of telling me that same thing.”

_ You should listen to him more often. He sees more than you know. _

Percival had felt drawn to a path of sunflowers. It was unreasonable that there was not magic in this cave if these flowers were growing so well in midsummer. So he wasn’t entirely surprised when they starting speaking to him. 

_ Percy, you are an idiot. _

There was only one person who called him Percy. “Kayla?” Problem is, she had been killed in the raid on his village a decade ago. It was her smooth voice though, a bit low and always on the verge of laughter. Often at his expense. 

_ Who else would it be? _

“No one, but you’re dead.” Magic could do a lot of things, but he didn’t think it raised the dead.

_ Magic cave silly. Not like you haven’t seen magic before.  _

Percival knew his elder sister was right. Afterall, she had just been starting to develop some of the gift before she had died. 

He shrugged away the memory, focusing on the present. “How is death?”

She laughed. It was the most beautiful sound. He had missed hearing it every day. It was almost like being home again. 

_ Death is good. Very peaceful. Would almost be relaxing if I didn’t have to watch my brother act like a lovesick puppy. _

“You watch me? Ugh, here I thought I would have privacy when I moved out of the one room house. But no, my sister watches me bathe from beyond the grave.”

_ Gross, no! I have seen your butt more than I wanted to in life. I was referring to you mooning over your girl, Sarah. _

“She’s not my girl,” Percival protested. 

_ My point exactly! You like her, she likes you. Just get her a gift and tell her how you feel. _

“But what if she doesn’t—”

_ She does. Trust me. Don’t think too hard about the gift either. You are better at gift giving than you give yourself credit for.  _

Percival smiled. It was so nice to get older sister advice again after so long. “Thanks, Kacy.”

_ Hey! I told you I grew out of that name! _

“What are you going to do, punch me?”

_ Oh, I will show you, little beanstalk. _

Percival then learned how magical the cave really was as the large flowers suddenly came to life and reached out with their long leaves to tickle him even as he tried to dodge. 


	31. A Grave Grove - Part 2

_ I am very proud of you, Arthur. Both of the king you are becoming and the man you have grown up to be. _

Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring the tears rolling down his cheeks. This chance to talk with his mother meant everything to him. His father had hardly talked about her. The nursemaids and tutors had been forbidden. Even William had said little beyond the fact that he was like her in many ways. 

And now he was talking with her. Through magic, sure, but that didn’t matter. Perhaps this all was a trick, but for once, he wouldn’t mind. It was the nicest trick anyone had ever played on him.

_ But Arthur, you must learn to trust your heart too. _

“What do you mean?”

_ I know your father was against it, but you and I both know Gwen would make a wonderful wife and a strong queen.  _

Arthur stared at the wildflowers in shock. “You really think so? Even though she’s not a noble? She has no strategic kingdom to bind into an alliance, no union or other land under her hold; she’s only a seamstress.”

_ You’re only echoing your father. You know you would never be happy marrying just for an alliance. There is more than one way to secure peace across Albion. You need someone who can support you and guide you. I tried to do that to your father, and he relied on me for it.  _ The petals of the wildflower unfurled and seemed to become more vibrant.  _ I wish you could’ve seen the kingdom before, Arthur, but I know you will make it shine even brighter.  _

“What if she doesn’t want to be queen?” Arthur asked in a quiet voice. Even when he allowed himself to daydream of marrying Guinevere, he still doubted. “Why would she want to lead a country?”

Her voice was full of kindness and warmth as she answered,  _ Why do you lead a country? You do it out of love. _

The begonias were sassy. From what Merlin could tell, a pair of imps had taken control of the portal to the other world and were using the most ridiculous rhyming couplets to warn him about, well, he wasn’t entirely sure what. Something in the north was all he got. If the Shadow Court really wanted to warn him of something, he wasn’t sure why Morgan didn’t just tell him herself. 

It’s not like she didn’t keep leaving notes on his message board for him to find. Helpful notes too. Brief notes on the different members of the Shadow Court. So why these imps? And unless Merlin could get them to stop giggling and rhyming, he was stuck with information he already knew. 

“Tell me something sensible,” he demanded, arms folded sternly. “Mistress Sibylline already warned me about danger in the North. Do you have anything more specific?”

_ Fly through the air, across the blue, pair by pair, we see them too, red against white, one staff raised high, in the darkest night, we hear him cry. _

Merlin groaned, head in his hands. Not helpful. “You’re worse than the dragons.”

_ Worse than? Did you hear that Tilby? I heard that Toby! Master thinks we are like dragons! The fiercest of creatures— _

_ Get lost! _

That was a new voice. A deeper voice. Merlin looked back at the flowers. 

_ Sorry about them _ .

Merlin knew that voice. His heart soared and his face split into a smile. “Father! I’ve missed you so much! I have so much to tell you!”

_ Calm down, Merlin. I have been watching over you and have seen much. I assumed you wished to tell me of Aithusa? _

“Yes. Oh, Father, it was perfection!” His heart soared even thinking of her birth. “So much joy and light and for a moment I couldn’t fathom anything other than the two of us.”

_ It is a strong bond, as I knew it would be. I’m sure Kilgharrah told you, but a white dragon brings with it good fortune. Although dragons take a long time to mature, I am confident she will soon be flying proudly by your side. _

“Is she flying already? I haven’t found time to visit the mountains since coming to Camelot.”

_ She’s taking short flights now. I expect by mid-autumn she will be strong enough to make the trip to Camelot. _

Merlin could hardly wait.

“Is Father there with you?” Arthur asked. 

There was an unexpected pause. For a moment, Arthur feared whatever connection there was had been lost. 

_ He’s here. Yes. We haven’t spoken lately. _ The words were careful.

“Are you fighting?” It sounded foolish, especially considering they were both dead and this whole thing was hard to believe, but that’s what it sounded like. 

_ You can say that.  _ The flower sighed, dropping slightly. _ He and I have very different opinions on the purge. _

Arthur had only ever heard magic users refer to it as ‘the purge.’ His father had called it a war.

“You think he was wrong.” 

_ He blamed my death on magic, magic which he used without telling me. He ignored his councillors and couldn’t face the consequences. So he hunted anyone smart enough to realise what he had done and then anyone who had magic and anyone who had connections to magic. This whole world is magic, Arthur. I hope someday you will understand that. I have to believe you can restore the balance. I have faith that you can. _

Being responsible for a kingdom was already a weight on his shoulders. But this? “That’s too much. I can’t do that. Where would I even start?”

The flower straightened up again.  _ You start by believing in yourself and listening to those around you. You have a circle of friends who will stand by you. This is nothing you cannot do. You’re already closer than you realise. _

“What?”

_ I don’t have enough time left to explain, Arthur. Remember that I love you, and I’m so very proud of you. Seeing you, holding you in my arms was the best moment of my life and continuing to watch you grow has been a gift. Be strong, my son. _

As Arthur led the men out of the cave, he felt relaxed like he hadn’t felt in ages.

“So I spoke with my sister,” Percival said into the silence. “Who did you talk with?” 

There was more confidence in Arthur’s shoulders, a clearer sense of direction in his walk. 

“He said he was my father,” Bors replied, “but he died too long ago for me to remember him so that can’t be right. Then again, I didn’t expect flowers to talk.”

Percival and Bors burst out laughing and Arthur would’ve joined in, except for the shadow he could see on the other side of the waterfall. It was hard to make out, but it seemed to be a man leaning over a shape on the ground. He started jogging. 

He passed through the water, but stopped short at the sight before him. The man wore a dark robe and had tattoos covering his body, but he didn’t seem to hear the knights approach. He was too focused on the creature before him. The white flank of a horse was coated with blood, its legs twitching, its ribs heaving. Arthur stood staring, his eyes slowly taking in that this wasn’t an ordinary horse.

Merlin did not stop. He brushed past Arthur and crashed to his knees beside the unicorn’s head. Gently, he stroked its mane. “What happened?” he asked. 

“I felt his cries,” replied the stranger who was also kneeling at the unicorn’s side. “I fear I came too late though.”

“Can you do anything for him?” Merlin asked, his voice soft, desperate.

“I’m trying, but my skills are not in healing.”

Arthur watched as Merlin looked up and met the eyes of the bald man. They didn’t say anything, but Arthur felt like they were having some sort of wordless conversation. The stranger nodded, and they both looked down again at the gash on the creature’s stomach. Merlin laid his hand over the other man’s, comforting him. 

The man muttered some words and the gash glowed slightly. The magic should’ve bothered Arthur, but he found he didn’t care. His only thought was of healing the unicorn. He remembered the tragedy that swept Camelot when he had killed a unicorn before. Although he hadn’t known the consequences at the time, Arthur had at least given it a quick death. Someone had left this one to die in tortured agony. 

The glow faded. The blood did not. 

“Can you not save it?” Arthur asked. 

“I have tried all that I know. Unicorns are naturally resistant to mortal magic. I did not have high hopes, sire.”

Arthur now knelt at the unicorn’s head too. He felt his other knights standing solemnly around them. He gently stroked its neck. He felt only a whisper of the transcendent peace he had felt before. He did not need any magic or healing knowledge to know it was dying. “I fear we must be getting back to Camelot, but stay with it, do what you can, even if it is not a lot. No creature this pure deserves to die in pain.”

The man nodded solemnly. 

Arthur stood. “And if you hear any news of who has attacked such a noble beast at this, send word to King Arthur of Camelot.”

The man looked at Merlin, nodded, then looked back to Arthur. “I will make sure a message reaches you.”

“Thank you. May I know your name?”

“My name is Alator.”

Merlin stood. “Then we thank you, Alator, for looking after him.”

“Come on,” Arthur said. “Time to return home. And Percival? You’ve got petals in your hair."


	32. Your Lying Eyes - Part 1

Merlin reported to Corinakus after dressing Arthur for a day of meetings. He had approached the physician about learning the basics of healing now that he had a little more spare time. He knew only what he had learned from growing up in his village and some small instinctual magic to heal cuts, but nothing that would help the knights. He had been thinking of it for a while, but knowing that he could do nothing to save the unicorn finally made him act. He had expected to be handed a pile of books and told to return in two weeks for a verbal assessment. 

And he had been handed books, but Corinakus also expected Merlin to accompany him on his rounds to give him in-the-field experience. At first it was thrilling. A new adventure, a new way of seeing the people of Camelot. A chance to prove that he was a good student. Then he realised he was little more than a cart with eyes. Corinakus hadn’t let Merlin examine a patient yet. He hadn’t let Merlin suggest a treatment. He just expected Merlin to observe. Sometimes he would ask Merlin questions when they stepped outside to quiz him. And when he got things wrong, Corinakus wouldn’t tell him the answer. He’d tell him to pay better attention next time. Not exactly helpful.

Today was the fifth time he was going out on rounds. It was hard to get full days off. Arthur kept needing his help with paperwork. Merlin carried supplies while Corinakus talked with patients. The youngest Holcott daughter’s cough was improving. Bartholomew’s vision was getting worse, and he’d probably have to pass on the running of his shop soon. Elric’s burn on his leg looked bad and there wasn’t much to do about it. Corinakus gave him a simple rub to help ease the pain. 

“What’s in the salve?” Merlin asked when they walked back outside. 

“Hmm? Oh, it’s just water with some flour,” Corinakus said offhand.

That didn’t make sense. But it was a direct answer. He took a chance on another question. “How does that help with the pain?”

“It doesn't. There’s nothing I can do to help him. But if they think that it helps, many times it does. Power of belief.”

Merlin didn’t know what to think about that. It seemed wrong to lie to them. Especially about their own health. Then again, was it better to say there’s nothing to do? It’s going to hurt for a while and nothing will help? Yet if the lie really did make them feel less pain, then maybe it was like medicine. 

But the power of belief had burned him before. It was belief in the king that had caused the people to turn against the magical community in a way they never had before. A poisoned belief that had forced his people into hiding. 

“Merlin?” Corinakus interrupted his thoughts. 

They were at the door to The Amber Rook. “Sorry,” Merlin said.

They walked inside. Merlin had heard that Mary was ill, a few of the kitchen girls had been helping pick up the slack at the Inn, but he hadn’t realised she was this bad off. She was laying in her bed in the back room, her husband, Master Elmswood at her side. Her face was gaunt, her hair was not in its normal tight braid; more noticeably, she was quiet. 

Merlin tried to stay out of Master Elmswood’s line of sight. The man was always cranky and he had a rotten attitude toward all the castle servants. Now that Merlin was in charge of assignments, he made sure to pick people to serve him carefully. Merlin didn’t understand how he managed to hitch up with Mary. Or why she still seemed to dote on him.

“Mary, my dear,” Corinakus said, sitting at her bedside. “Are you feeling any better?”

She shook her head, a slight motion in her weakened state. 

“She’s only gotten weaker,” Master Elmswood said. “The last potion didn’t help. Please tell me there’s something you can do. I can’t run the inn without her.”

Corinakus didn’t reply. Merlin watched as he inspected Mary’s eyes, her tongue, and felt her heartbeat. He was silent while he worked. Merlin watched him check something on her wrist for the second time. 

Corinakus quickly looked back at Merlin and then refocused back on the Elmswoods. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing more I can do. The disease has too great a hold on her for me to do anything. You can give her more of the blue potion to help ease her pain, but you should start preparing.”

Master Elmswood gasped, trying not to cry. Mary reached out and weakly held his hand. Merlin excused himself from the room. He sat down at the counter, placing the wicker container of supplies next to him. 

Anna was wiping down the counter and came over to lean next to him. “It’s not looking good, is it?” she said quietly. 

Merlin shook his head. 

“I can’t keep working here,” she said. “It’s been a good change of pace, but working the castle kitchens pays better. I wish there was something I could do.”

Was there something _he_ could do? Corinakus had told him the symptoms Mary had earlier today. Maybe there was something in his magic books he could find that would help. It would take some time to search the books in the secret library, but if he could heal Mary, it would be worth the risk. She had helped him before, and she had helped the townsfolk. He had to at least try. Besides, his magic had felt pretty useless lately. It helped polish armour and sew holes in tunics, but Camelot had been quiet since the coronation. This was something he could do to help someone else.

It was a warm night and the upper town was quiet. An invisible Merlin darted from the shadow of the blacksmiths to the shadow of a cart. He didn’t have to hide from the patrols while he was invisible, but old habits die hard. The solitary guard strolled by and turned the corner. In a couple more minutes, Merlin made his way to The Amber Rook. 

The windows were uncovered and Merlin quickly found the one in the Elmswoods’ private room. 

Looking in, he could see Mary sleeping restlessly on the bed, sweat beaded on her brow. Her husband was sleeping on a chair next to her. A damp cloth hung from his fingers, no doubt trying to keep her cool. He really didn’t want to wake him. The man probably had a whip to beat servants in the next room over.

He had found a cure for an illness with similar symptoms; he only hoped it was similar enough. All the necessary herbs had been in his underground workshop and the spells weren’t too difficult. The heart of the enchantment was two balanced spells to help regulate the body’s temperature, thus allowing the more mundane mixture of herbs to work more effectively. Far more effective than a cool cloth on the head. 

He had finished the poultice after supper but waited until it was dark, fervently hoping Mary had not worsened. So now, Merlin hoisted himself up into the window. One leg, lean to the side, swing the other one up. Master Elmswood hadn’t moved yet. He carefully repositioned himself to sit on the windowsill. Now the tricky part: he had to land quietly, but he couldn’t see his feet to judge how far he had to fall.

He made a mental note to look up personal muffling spells.

He twisted around and lowered himself as far as possible, supporting himself on his hands. But his arm strength wasn’t all that great so he quickly dropped, landing as softly as possible on the balls of his feet and bending his knees right into the wall. 

Ow. 

Master Elmswood stirred slightly but otherwise didn’t wake. Merlin walked carefully over to Mary. He gently took the cloth and wiped Mary’s brow. It felt like she was on fire. 

He put the cloth back on the edge of the bucket, not wanting to risk opening Elmwood’s hand again. He fumbled for his pocket and pulled out the poultice, now looking like it was floating in his invisible hand. Didn’t want to mess with the different elements by adding an additional spell.

He whispered the activation spell and slid it under her pillow. Close to her body as he could put it without it being in plain sight. At least it didn’t glow. Instantly, Mary’s breathing became deeper and she lay more still on the bed.

Merlin smiled. It was nice to use his magic to help people. And Mary was always nice to him when he needed to escape the citadel’s chaos. It felt good to help her in return. 

When Merlin was gathering Arthur’s breakfast, he overheard that Mary was feeling better and wouldn’t need Anna to split her duties anymore. Knowing his poultice had worked brightened Merlin’s day and Arthur was greeted with a smiling Merlin. “Rise and shine!”

“For once I agree, Merlin,” Arthur said. “My meetings went well yesterday, and I have more time for an open council today. No need to listen to stuffy councilmen talk about the issues they have with guilds on their lands or whatever else they deem to be the best waste of my time.”

Arthur dressed for a pleasantly warm August morning of training and then people’s court and he was looking forward to a good day. Perhaps he would take Guinevere out for a ride in the afternoon. 

And it was a good morning. Until Master Elmswood brought a matter before the court. He had hardly started talking before Arthur felt a headache coming on. He was saying something about a magical curse being put on his wife, and honestly, Arthur already knew the man was harboring a grudge against someone. 

“And I know who’s to blame,” he was saying. “It’s him.” He pointed accusingly to the side of the room. “Merlin.”

Well, that wasn’t good. “Merlin? You’re sure it was him?” Arthur asked.

“His evil eyes are always watching my Mary, coming into my inn and laying his evil charms. He has tried before to enchant my wife, but now, finally, I have proof. Proof that he tried to murder her.” He continued to glare at Merlin, who simply watched him spit accusations, a look of nonchalance on his face. 

This wasn’t the first time Merlin had been accused of having magic. He remembered the time his father had called for a witchfinder to investigate rumours of a sorcerer hiding in the town. Merlin had been among the many accused. However, the man had been discovered to be a sorcerer himself, simply after a fortune. He supposed after being tortured for a confession by Aredian, being accused by Master Elmswood wasn’t anything to be flustered by. Obviously it was foolish to think Merlin was a sorcerer. Sure, he had knowledge on the subject, but he lived in the library. Arthur had knowledge of the French government but that didn’t mean he was the Duke of Brittany.

Yet the spectators were whispering. Arthur didn’t know which way they swayed, but he had to at least appear impartial. 

“What is your proof?”

“I found this under my wife’s pillow.” He unfolded a bundle of cloth to show another bundle of cloth. It looked like the poultices the physician sometimes prescribed for ailments. He held it up like a prized jewel. “That man placed this under my wife’s pillow to slowly drag her into death. He wanted to make her suffer. Then, he came with the physician to see his work. He surely was hiding a smile when Corinakus said there was nothing to be done. It’s only because I found his evil curse that I was able to rid my wife of the sickness caused by magic.”

“If I may, sire?” Usually, the Council said nothing during a trial, not actually caring for the needs of the commoners, but this was Lord Gravenhunger’s son and he was new to the Court. Arthur motioned for him to speak. “You didn’t see the poultice being placed though?” It was barely a question; he’d noticed the hole in the argument. “How do you know it was Merlin who placed it?”

“I heard him in the night,” Elmswood replied. “He snuck in through the window, and he was whispering foul enchantments to force me to sleep. I might not have remembered until I saw bootprints under the window in the morning.” He scowled. “I knew it was an evil creature who made them.”

Arthur had had enough of listening to him. “Merlin, do you want to share your point of view?”

“No, don’t listen to his lies!” Elmswood protested even as Merlin pushed himself off the pillar and walked forward. 

“My good man,” the younger Lord Gravenhunger spoke before Arthur could. “It is the duty of the king to be impartial and to hear both the accuser and the accused in order to make a reasonable judgement. This is applicable in all cases, even ones involving sorcery.”

Arthur nodded in agreement. He hadn’t expected it, but he was glad Lord Gravenhunger had spoken out. It sounded less like favouritism when he said it. And judging by his phrasing, he understood what new precedence Arthur was trying to set. Unlike his father, Arthur truly intended to make this a fair court. 

There had been a few too many cases that he had investigated with his knights after the fact and realised that an innocent had been killed for magic they didn’t have, only because of a petty grudge and neighbors who were too frightened to speak up. He motioned for Merlin to speak. 

“Thank you,” Merlin began in a strong voice. “I do admit that I placed the poultice there, however it was not intended to harm but rather to heal. You see, Master Elmswood has his timeline wrong, even if some of his facts are correct.” Arthur could tell that this had caught the attention of the spectators. “I did not know Mary was ill until I visited with the physician. As the king knows, I wished to learn more of the healing arts and so I accompanied Corinakus on his rounds that day. I was disheartened to learn that Mary might not recover.”

“So you used a poultice that did heal her,” Arthur said. “Why did you not tell the physician?”

“I didn’t know if the poultice would work. I only read about it in a book. I wasn’t even sure I had translated it correctly. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. I thought that if no one knew about the possible solution, then if it worked, it worked, and if not, we would be sad, but not surprised. That was the physician’s diagnosis afterall.” Merlin turned from Arthur and looked at the physician. “I realise now that I should’ve told you of my plan first.”

“What was in the poultice?” Arthur asked.

Merlin listed off a few ingredients, nothing magical, and Corinakus confirmed that individually the herbs would be used to heal, but he had never seen them combined in that way. Naturally, he would want to see the book for himself later. He glanced at Merlin and frowned, but he didn’t comment on Merlin’s rogue healing.

Still, Master Elmswood tried to insist it was magic and that Merlin ought to be burned. But he had no hope of swaying Arthur. Even if the accused wasn’t his closest friend, Arthur was determined to make judgements based on proof. And, as he explained to the audience, there was no proof that any enchantments had been used. Elmswood should keep that in mind, and Merlin should refrain from sneaking in through windows that were not his own. He would be assigned to extra duties as punishment for that.


	33. Your Lying Eyes - Part 2

“What were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?” William hurled his words at Merlin in the small living area they shared. Merlin was sitting at the table tracing the grains while his mentor stood, gesticulating as he spoke. “You of all people should know how utterly stupid”—he spat the word—“that was. Someone could’ve seen you. Or heard you. I don’t care if you were trying your invisibility spell again, everyone knows your voice. And even if it wasn’t found to be you, someone else would’ve taken the blame. Someone else who is not so close to the king and can get away with it like you.”

Merlin looked up at that. “That’s not why I got away with it,” he protested. “Arthur would’ve heard the other side of anyone accused.”

“And what could they say? No, they didn’t place it there. No, they can’t explain how Mary got better. No, there is no one who can confirm they didn’t sneak out at night.” 

Merlin dropped his gaze. William had a point, but he didn’t want to hear it. He wanted to hear praise for figuring it out on his own. For successfully mastering a complex healing spell, and mixing the right ingredients together, in less than a day. 

“You know Master Elmswood has accused people in the past. He’s used to being successful as well. You’re incredibly lucky that Uther is no longer king or you would surely be sentenced to burn in the morning.” William paused for a deep breath and crossed his arms. Unlike Merlin, his lungs were no longer up to long rants like this. “Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Merlin stood. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Going for a—no you sit back down right now, young man!” But Merlin was already out the door, his long legs carrying him away from the shouting. “Don’t you dare go near that inn, Merlin, you hear me?”

And Merlin did hear him. He just chose to ignore him. There was something he wanted to do. William did have one good point: Merlin was intimately familiar with Camelot and knew that what he could get away with, others could not. As his network grew, he envisioned more people with magic coming and going in Camelot. They needed to know who to stay far away from. People like Master Elmswood.

It needed to be a new form of a tracker spell. Most tracker spells he had researched involved directly spelling the person and he did  _ not  _ want to place a permanent spell on Elmswood. Especially if he had devices to detect magic, or even repel it. There wasn’t a large market for those, some people fearing that it was too close to using magic themselves, but Merlin had seen them before.

Last year, when Morgan had said she couldn’t detect the thief who had broken into the vaults, it had started the inklings of an idea. 

You can't counter what isn't there.

He couldn’t know for sure, but an absence of magic had to be how the thief was able to get in and out of Camelot without anyone noticing. 

Merlin ducked into an alley behind the inn. He didn’t need to be close to do this; he only needed to be close enough to pinpoint Master Elmswood. Merlin closed his eyes and reached out with his senses. He could faintly detect the background aura of the many patrons at the inn, as well as friends stopping by to talk with Mary. 

Despite what was commonly believed, everyone had a touch of magic. It was a part of the natural fabric of the world. Merlin stretched his senses until he felt the one that belonged to Elmswood, working in the back of the inn. It was a bit sour, a dark grey colour. 

He didn’t know if this would work, no books talked about it, but the theory made sense to Merlin. He reached out with, well, not his hand, and not exactly his magic either, but something more fundamental. Taking a hold of the aura, he pulled, feeling the energy slog toward him. It took effort to pull it away, but then something snapped, the resistance was gone. 

The energy collected in a swirling sphere, a miasma of colour. Merlin didn’t want it. From the earth we are made, and to the earth we return. He pushed the sphere of energy back into the earth, feeling it join some greater well of energy. A source almost overwhelming in its enormity. 

Merlin released the energy and opened his eyes. It was dark. The inn was quiet. He glanced at the sky; perhaps four hours had passed. 

His stomach growled. Right, he had skipped dinner by walking out on William. He would have to apologise tonight. 

“You do know that isn’t strictly allowed in the laws laid down by the goddess, right? Messing with the magic of the Earth?”

Merlin looked up to see Morgan leaning against the opposite wall and braiding small braids in her hair. Her fingers were flying fast, but her eyes were glued to him. Maybe she had been there watching him for a while. It was hard to tell. Although half of her hair was plaited. 

“Lady Morgan,” Merlin greeted as he pushed himself to his feet. She quickly reached out and helped him up. 

“Careful, I’m not sure what you did, but I can tell it took a lot of energy.” Her voice was quiet, but firm.

“I don’t feel any more drained.” Merlin brushed the dirt off his trousers. “I’m not even sure I was using my magic.”

“Not your magic, but you were directing the energy of the earth, the connecting fabric. That may not drain your magical reserves, but it takes considerable mental agility and strain.” She ran a hand through her hair and the braids became undone. “Who taught you?” There was a hint of wonder in her voice and it made him uncomfortable.

“No one. I just followed my instincts.”

Morgan linked her arm with his and led him to the citadel. “What were you doing? I felt the absence again, though not as strong. I was worried.”

Merlin glanced sideways and grinned. “You? Worried?”

She only rolled her eyes. 

It was too peaceful tonight for their usual banter. 

“For all your power, Emrys, I do worry about you overextending yourself. Destiny lays heavy on you and it is in my best interests to help where I can.”

Merlin was touched. He would never admit it, but he looked up to Morgan. “I was trying to mark people to avoid if you have magic. Elmswood takes pleasure in accusing others of sorcery to serve his own gain. If druids are going to come back into the city, they should know to avoid him.”

“Smart.” They nodded casually to a guard on patrol. It wasn’t late enough that they would be questioned, and it wasn’t light enough that Merlin was recognised. He assumed Morgan was using some spell of misdirection to distract from her slightly pointed ears. “And how were you doing that?”

“By removing his latent magic.”

Morgan stopped dead in her tracks, pulling Merlin to a halt. “You did what?”

“I gave his aura back to the earth,” Merlin said slowly. “What’s wrong with that? It’s not like he was going to develop his magic.”

Morgan laughed, a short, harsh laugh. “I see why you will take my place one day. I had always wondered.” 

Merlin raised his eyebrows. 

“Manipulating the magic of the earth is already not generally allowed by the goddess. That’s considered to be the realm of the immortals. Most who have attempted have died, simply from attempting to channel the power. Count yourself lucky that you did not.” She started walking again. “But removing someone’s magic,” she breathed in sharply through her teeth, “even I would never consider such a punishment.”

“Does it hurt him? I didn’t intend that.”

“Not your normal form of hurt. Bear in mind, all I tell you now is theory, things recorded in books from the Dark Ages and taught to us. To one who has magic in the more traditional sense, removing their magic feels like taking a part of that person away. Like your king, he wouldn’t be harmed if he suddenly lost the ability to hold a sword, but he wouldn’t be the same man. He couldn’t charge into battle the same way, he would lose the respect of his men, the confidence he has in himself. Yet, physically he’s unharmed.” 

Merlin nodded. He couldn’t imagine being forced to live without his magic. There wasn’t a day that passed without him using it in one way or another. Even if it was just a simple heating charm on his thin blanket. 

“That being said, what would change about Arthur if suddenly he lost his ability to fly? He never knew he had the ability, he would never use it anyways. And that’s what you have done. From what you say, this man wouldn’t use magic even if he had my powers, but what right do you or I have to make that choice for him? Could he change his outlook in the future? No one can say.”

Merlin had nothing to say to that. He really hadn’t thought of it in those terms. He was taking away their choice. Taking something that was not his to take. Moreover, magic didn’t go away if you didn’t use it. Were there long term implications they didn’t know of? This wasn’t something the Triple Goddess didn’t take it away. Who was he to make that decision? It was too much. He almost turned them around to undo what he had done.

Morgan let him think in silence until they came to a smaller doorway into the lower levels of the castle. 

“I’m not saying what you did was the wrong choice. I merely want you to understand what you have done. This is where I will leave you.”

Merlin unlinked his arm from hers. “Thank you for the advice.” He paused. “You won’t join me for supper? We could have a picnic?”

Morgan laughed again, a lighter one than before. “No, you should enjoy a meal with William. Here.” She glanced at her hand and, with a glow of her eyes, a small bouquet of flowers materialised. “Add these to your table and think of me.” 

Merlin took the flowers and she vanished. He didn’t know much about the language of flowers, but he had learned enough from sitting with Gwen in her workshop that the prominent flower in his hand stood for apologies. He did owe it to William. 

Arthur walked into the library. He wasn’t sure if he was hoping Merlin would be here or not, but he wasn’t. It was just William cleaning up from a simple meal he probably had with Merlin. 

William looked up and an expression Arthur couldn’t quite identify flitted across his face. “Merlin’s not here.” His voice was flat.

“Actually, I was looking for you. I can come back if this isn’t a good time though.”

William set down the towel and motioned for Arthur to sit at the table. “I always have time for you. What do you need an old librarian for?” His voice was lighter now, although still forced. Perhaps seeing Merlin accused of magic had stressed him out.

“I heard something, a phrase, and it had to do with magic and I don’t know anything about magic, but I was hoping you know. Not from personal experience,” he rushed to say, not wanting to sound accusatory, “but books can teach you things. And you’ve lived in Camelot far longer than I have.”

“This is true.”

“Right. So I heard someone say that there is magic in everything. Let’s start with that. Everything?”

William nodded. “I’ve heard it called the spark of life. It’s not magic like casting spells, but it’s an energy that gives things life. Every animal, every tree, every person has this spark of life inside them.”

Arthur frowned. “I have magic in me?”

“Yes. Not enough to cast spells, but enough for you to have been born.”

“So sorcerers have more of it?” He was trying hard to feel some sign of this magic inside him, but he just felt like Arthur. Same as always. 

“Precisely. Different people are born with different amounts of magic in them.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It gets more complicated than that, of course, but that’s a good basic understanding.”

“Okay. Then the second part.” He looked down at the table. “I was told, that it’s my job to restore the balance that was upset by the war. I don’t.” He stopped. He traced a knot on the table, trying to find the words. “I don’t want to let her down, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

William was silent for a moment. “No one can know their own future. You’re already king, and that is a big part of making any changes. Focus first on deciding what kind of kingdom you’d like to run, and maybe you’ll find out along the way that the balance has been restored to nature.”

Arthur looked up. That was more reassuring than he expected, but it still didn’t answer his question. 

William seemed to understand. “The balance of the world cannot be solved by one person alone. I don’t even think you can reverse the effects of the purge in one generation. But perhaps the changes you make will be the start.”

Arthur thought Merlin would have something to say about being accused of sorcery. Again. Some snarky joke or snide comment on Master Elmswood’s intelligence. But he didn’t say anything. Not until a few weeks later and a couple other trials had happened. 

Merlin had brought them both supper, which they both were ignoring in favour of paperwork. Through the window, the sounds of after-market chatter floated in on the warm breeze. Arthur took an absent bite of his roll. Just because he was a new king, did not mean he would approve any little request yet another lord was proposing. There was no way Lord Amara’s estate had fallen into enough disrepair to require 300 gold for repairs. The man was always bragging about how his hall was the best of the lords and wouldn’t the king please come and visit, there’s a bed made up already. Arthur groaned. 

“You reached Amara’s request?” Merlin asked without looking up. 

“How’d you guess?” he said dryly.

“I’ll answer him if you tell these,” he counted the growing stack to his right, “eight people that they cannot become personal manservants to the king.”

Arthur frowned and held out his hand for the stack. “I already have two? Why would I need more?”

“Your father had more.” Merlin traded him. 

“He had three. And one of them was close to retiring anyway.” He scanned the sloppy writing. Certainly he wouldn’t accept any of them based on their literacy even if he was looking for another manservant. “What do they mean by favouritism?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “They think being close to you means more leniency. No idea why. You used to make me muck out the stables far too often for that. The head of the stables actually laid off two of the stable hands after I got here.”

“When did these request start coming in?” Arthur had a sneaking suspicion. 

“Few weeks ago. I might’ve dismissed a few more when I last got caught up on all this.”

“It’s because of the Elmswood trial,” Arthur explained. “That’s the second time you were accused of sorcery and nothing happened. You know how rare that is.”

Merlin dismissed his theory with a flap of his hand, splattering ink on the table. “You’re changing things though.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t obvious until that trial. I made sure your side was heard and you had a solid argument. I know Corinakus backed you up, but even some of the minor lords whispered about favouritism.”

“That’s rubbish.”

“Nonetheless, they whisper.” They always whisper. Especially the women. But then they tell their husbands and rumours grow.

Merlin finished writing a reply to Lord Amara and set it on Arthur’s completed stack. “Don’t they have better things to talk about? Like which of their sons will become a knight next or who’s  really warming Atwater’s bed.”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to look up in surprise. “I thought he was courting Elanore?”

Merlin grinned. “He is.”

“Oh! Who?”

“Not until you finish answering those.”

“Such a taskmaster.”

Merlin leaned back and pulled his food closer. He made sure to chew exceptionally loud.


	34. Upon the Chapel Green - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The map](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17173079/chapters/40377599) has been updated!

The air was just beginning to turn cold, especially here on the side of the mountains in the northwest of Camelot. Or perhaps he had crossed the border into Northumbria; it wasn’t like there was a sign or anything. The sun provided enough heat to make it bearable with just a thin jacket. Trees haven't yet turned, but migratory birds had started their flight south. And it was a good day for flying. 

Merlin was currently laying on a hill watching Aithusa wheel overhead. She wasn't yet graceful in her movements, but she had evidently progressed enough that Kilgharrah flew down to Camelot so she and Merlin could bond. 

She was soaring above, not elegant, but it was impossible not to feel her joy coursing through their bond, echoed by Merlin’s own joy at seeing her having fun. He wanted to save this moment in his memory forever. Someday she’d grow old and wise, but this bright, pure innocence was a gift.

The old dragon, meanwhile, was napping on a higher cliff. Merlin couldn't see him, but he could feel that he was near. Merlin could picture the way he was probably curled up, his tail twitching near his head that rested on his front legs. One eye would be closed, the other watching both Aithusa and Merlin carefully. 

Aithusa spiralled down out of the air and stumbled to a somersault landing next to him. 

Aithusa couldn’t speak a human language fully, but she got across the idea that someone was approaching. Merlin sat up and looked around. He didn’t see anyone, but perhaps they were still further off. Instead he watched the clouds cast shadows over the valley and rubbed his hands over Aithusa’s back, paying special attention to the ridges of her spine.

He was watching a group of farmers check the harvest down in the valley when a person appeared before him. Merlin jerked back in surprise. 

The person wasn't even on the hill. He was astride a flying horse. Aithusa chirped at the horse and flew away. Merlin was more focused on the man. He seemed to be larger than Percival even, and his armour was a most peculiar deep green. Merlin couldn’t tell, but he thought the man’s skin might be green as well. 

“Hello?” Merlin said when the other stayed silent. He didn’t appear to be a threat, but Merlin was prepared to let the man underestimate him. He stayed seated while letting his magic come slightly closer to the surface. More like repositioning a scabbard rather than completely drawing the blade.

He was very matter-of-fact when he spoke, hardly any inflection. “I’m looking for a challenge,” the knight said. 

“What kind of challenge?” Merlin kept his tone light. “If you are looking for a duel, I’m afraid you have come to the wrong person.”

“The nature of the challenge is up to you. I ask only that it is a tit for tat challenge.”

Merlin thought for a moment, then opened his mouth to suggest a game of riddles, but was interrupted by the sound of thundering hooves and a gauntlet being thrown over his head. The man caught it just before it whacked him in the face.

“I want a rematch!” Gwaine’s horse skidded to a stop beside Merlin. “It’s not my fault my idiot horse knocked me off balance. I want a proper exchange of blows.”

“Gwaine?” Merlin asked, now standing to stare at his friend. “What are you doing in Camelot? You were banished.”

“Oh, hello Merlin. I didn’t see you there,” he replied. “And banishment? As if I was going to let that stop me from chasing down this rouge for a rematch.”

Merlin thought back to the other five or so times that he had found Gwaine in Camelot when he was technically banished. He realised that was a stupid question. 

The knight directed his mount closer and dismounted. “I accept your challenge.”

Gwaine nodded and the green knight handed back the gauntlet. Gwaine put the glove in his saddlebag and dismounted as well.

“The same challenge?” the knight asked.

“Of course.” Gwaine drew his greatsword.

“Then make your blow and I will return it in kind three days from now.”

“Gwaine, what are you doing?” Merlin had a feeling this was not going to go as Gwaine assumed. The stranger’s manner was too self-assured. Not to mention the green skin screamed fae and that  _ never _ boded well.

“Not now, Merlin.” Gwaine raised his sword. “This is a matter of honor.”

He swung his sword, slicing through the air then through the other man’s neck. The head wobbled and fell to the ground. Merlin watched in disbelief. 

His jaw dropped further when the green knight stooped and picked up his head, settling it firmly back onto his neck. “I look forward to meeting you in three days time in Warwickshire.” 

“Warwickshire?” Gwaine exclaimed as the man mounted up like nothing had happened. “I don't have a winged horse like you, I'll never make it in time!”

“Not so. I believe your friend can help.” And with that, he nodded a farewell and soared away, vanishing in the clouds. 

For a minute, no one said anything. 

“So, magic, right?” Gwaine said, still looking at where the knight had vanished. 

“No human without would be able to.” Merlin replied. 

“Can you detach your head?”

“Detach, sure. Anyone with a blade can. Can't reattach it and walk away though.”

Gwaine glanced over at Merlin’s deadpan expression and burst out laughing. Merlin quickly joined in. It has been an exhausting few days and the release felt good. 

Gwaine wiped the blood off his sword and returned it to his sheath. “So, do you have a flying horse that we can take south?” Gwaine asked.

Merlin thought briefly of Kilgharrah but dismissed that idea. “How much do you trust my magic?”

“I trust you with my life.”

Merlin could see Gwaine didn’t quite understand. He explained that he knew an instant transportation spell, but he had only performed it over small distances and never bringing someone else along. If they did this they would both be trusting his magic to understand his needs. He didn’t know if they’d be able to make it all the way to Warwickshire in one jump, the effort required scaled with distance, but perhaps a series of leapfrog jumps would get them to their destination in three days time. 

He frowned. Three days there and three days back. Arthur would notice that. 

Gwaine put his hands on Merlin’s shoulders. “Merlin, mate. Your magic is a part of you and I trust you. Nothing conditional about it.”

Merlin smiled. “Then fasten down your saddlebags while I take a moment to prepare.” Maybe Chet and William would cover for him. Call him selfish, but he wasn’t going to delay long enough for Gwaine to change his mind. He reached out with his magic to his dragons and explained what came up. Aithusa was sad that playtime was over; Kilgharrah merely chuckled and wished him luck, warning Merlin not to overextend himself. The warlock then reviewed the spell in his mind and brought his magic up to his fingertips. 

“We’ll do a small jump first,” Merlin said and held out his hand. “Are you ready?”

Gwaine put one hand on his horse’s neck, and with the other took hold of Merlin. “Ready.”

Merlin’s eyes lit up gold as he started chanting. “ _ Accipe a me, ad destinatum in animo. Sit amet, dea esse meus turpis _ .”

The wind picked up, swirling around them before collapsing inward, vanishing to stillness, leaving only some flattened grass and a few specks of blood to show they had been there. 

When they rematerialised just outside Iseildur’s camp, Gwaine steadied himself on Merlin but didn't throw up. His horse sneezed violently in protest. 

“I'm surprised,” Merlin complimented. “It took a couple trips before I stopped throwing up.”

“Mate, this is not as bad as some hangovers I've had.” Well, it was a little worse, but he had got used to it. And looking around, realising fully that they had instantaneously travelled leagues across Camelot, he wasn't going to give Merlin any excuse to change his mind. “I'm ready for a longer jump now.”

Merlin laughed. “Your horse might need another minute.”

Gwaine looked at his horse chewing grass. It seemed to glare at him. “Shut up, Guin,” he muttered. His horse snorted at him. 

Merlin only laughed more. But Gwaine didn't mind. He rarely got to see Merlin completely relaxed. There always seemed to be something chaotic happening in the city. Someone was trying to kill Arthur or someone was, well, really the root cause of every problem usually seemed to be someone wanting to kill Arthur. 

He tried to give Merlin a bit of a smile whenever he used the quills to report. Adding a little drawing or an elaborate story when there was nothing to report. Anything that was guaranteed to bring a smile to Merlin’s face. Even if he wasn’t physically there to see it. Until he was permitted back into the city, he would have to settle for being the best friend possible by paper.

He and Gilli sometimes conspired on their missions to brighten Merlin’s day. He wasn't sure if Merlin had realised yet. He hoped that he would be there when Merlin did realise. Arthur was king now so perhaps he wouldn’t have much longer to wait. Though he did understand how many duties he now had as a king and the banishment of one simple commoner couldn’t be high on the list. Even if said commoner wasn’t all that common.

Merlin let out a long sigh. “Okay, we should jump again so that we’re at least to the southern border of Camelot.”

Gwaine grabbed his horse’s mane, not letting the beast run, and took Merlin’s hand. Then he braced himself for being squeezed across leagues of magical transportation. 


	35. Upon the Chapel Green - Part 2

They had to rest just south of Camelot for Merlin to eat, sleep, and recharge. The weather was still nice enough for them to sleep outside and they rose with the sun, ready to travel. 

It was only then that Merlin told Gwaine he would need his help to travel further. 

“My help?” Gwaine’s eyebrows rose as he leaned back a little, pointing at himself as if there was anyone else Merlin could’ve been talking to. “I don't have magic, why would you need me?”

“I can only take us to places I’m familiar with. This is as far south as I’ve travelled.” 

“Really?” Gwaine asked. “I thought you were born outside of Camelot.”

Merlin shrugged. “Ealdor is to the west; my father was from the north. I've never had reason to go south.”

“South is where I’m from, even if I didn't stay home for long.”

“That's what I was counting on,” Merlin explained. “As long as you can picture a place clearly in your mind, I can direct the spell to follow you.”

Gwaine was doubtful, but he kept it to himself. As he said the previous day, he trusted Merlin. And sure enough, the spell continued to work. It just revealed a pattern Gwaine wished wasn't so true. 

“Do you only remember the taverns?” Merlin exclaimed after they materialised outside the fourth one in as many jumps. 

“One was an inn,” Gwaine protested. 

“An inn attached to a tavern.”

He couldn’t actually argue with that. He did spend a lot of time at taverns. They didn’t ask questions there. They didn’t care what currency you used. And the seedier the establishment, the less likely he was to cross paths with someone who would recognise him. The less likely someone was to tell his father. The less likely he was to confront the choice he had made so many years ago.

Perhaps this was dangerous, going so close to home. Warwickshire was the neighboring kingdom after all. But it didn’t matter. He had an agreement to honour.

Merlin only shook his head and prepared for the last jump of the day. There was a fond smile on his face. “At least stopping at taverns means easy food while we travel.”

And in three days they made it in one piece to the abandoned castle in Warwickshire. It wasn’t somewhere Gwaine had been, but Merlin had felt the spell latch on to this location and it felt right. When they materialised, Merlin immediately sensed a strong source of energy. It was accompanied by an odd scent of apples; there was a portal here. 

But he was not here to travel to Avalon. He was here to protect Gwaine. Well, bring him here, then protect him. 

Gwaine led the way to the castle courtyard where they expected the knight to be. He wasn’t there. They walked into the garden. Not there. Merlin reached out with his senses and found him up on the roof of a tower. He led the way. 

Gwaine stopped him before the door. “Merlin, thank you, but I don’t want you to see this. You don’t need to see me die because I was tired of travelling and challenged some strange guy in the forest. Please don’t come up onto the roof.”

Merlin looked him in the eye. “I promise you won’t see me up there. Good luck.”

Gwaine nodded back. “Give the princess a kiss for me,” he teased. 

“Kiss him yourself. I’ll see you soon.” 

Gwaine turned around. Merlin turned invisible. They both walked out onto the roof. 

Merlin let the door fall shut behind him. The green knight stood tall on the other side of the roof, a large axe planted on the ground between his feet. In the center of the roof was an executioner's block. A green one, of course. 

The knight looked at Gwaine but then locked eyes with Merlin. 

_ “You have no need to worry, Emrys.” _ The voice was powerful inside his mind. _ “Your friend will be safe. Take a short trip though. I believe there are some who wish to see you.” _

Merlin looked to his left and saw the portal shining bright just on the edge of the parapet. He nodded to the green knight. “ _ Then I will leave him in your care. Try not to scare him too much.” _

Merlin only got a chuckle in response as he stepped up to the wall. Behind him he could hear the knight asking Gwaine if he had sorted out his inheritance. Merlin stepped off the roof and into Avalon. 

It was an odd sensation, stepping off a castle wall and then having your foot fall on soft grass. Merlin breathed in deeply, the sharp smell of apples filling his nose. The harmonious birdsong complimented the rhythm of the water dancing over rocks in its quest to the ocean. It was only his second time visiting the fae realm, but it felt like coming home. 

Across the hills, there was a large tree next to a bubbling brook. In the shade of the branches was a small gathering of beings around a picnic blanket. Merlin had a feeling they were waiting for him. With a silent spell, he transformed his well-worn clothes into something a little more formal and dropped his invisibility spell. 

As he walked toward the group, he realised he did not recognise any of them from his meeting with the Unseelie Court. In fact, judging by the peach blossoms on the tree above, they were likely the Seelie Court. 

There were four figures in front of a modest spread of delights. Two were tall and humanoid, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the blanket. The third had two arms and two legs, but with a head that kept shifting between different animals. A dog, then a falcon, now a lion. The fourth he didn’t see until he was closer. He was hovering above the blanket with wings only twice the size of Merlin’s hands and the rest of his body similarly small.

One of the tall ones, an elderly woman with long white hair rose to greet him. “Emrys, we are honoured you could join us.”

Merlin bowed his head in response. He could tell that she was in charge. “The pleasure is mine. I’m afraid I do not know who you are, though.”

She sat back on the ground and motioned for him to do the same. “I go by many names, but you may call me Josephine. We are ambassadors of the Seelie Court, as I am sure you guessed. Croissant?”

Merlin happily accepted the offered food. He’d only had a small snack the last time he was in Avalon but it had been amazing. Spreading a little apple butter on the croissant, he nearly melted in pleasure. Admittedly it had been nine hours since he last ate, and that was tavern food, but food of Avalon was always better. He took care to swallow before asking, “What did you wish to speak with me about?”

“We wished to inquire about the status of Camelot.” A younger man with bark-like skin spoke. His eyes were a piercing dark brown. “You have been aware of your destiny for many years, and the tyrant is now dead, we felt the joy of the land, but we have not heard of the laws being changed.”

Merlin looked around and could read what they weren’t saying. They were trying to be polite, but they were growing weary of waiting. He only knew a little from Morgan, but he remembered something about Avalonians drawing power from the belief of people on Earth. If magic was free in Camelot and her allies, they would grow stronger. 

“Have any of you been to Earth recently?” he asked. 

Unreadable looks were exchanged. They seemed to pity him, but that couldn’t be right. Josephine spoke again. “The Seelie Court do not interfere with your realm. That includes visiting uninvited. It is the main thing that separates us from your future Court.”

“Oh.” Well there went his plans to explain things in terms of planting crops. “It’s slow progress, but there is progress,” he started. He explained about how there can’t be rapid change or else the people will revolt. The Council needed to be reassured of Arthur’s leadership abilities and suddenly renouncing his Father’s laws didn’t show that. He also told them of the small changes that had been made. It was quiet, but the pyre was no longer a legal form of execution. He hated to betray Arthur’s confidence, but Merlin told them that in private Arthur had expressed changing views on magic, plus Merlin had witnessed more fair trials and Arthur was sincerely saddened by the unicorn’s pain. Merlin was hopeful for the future.  

While they digested what Merlin told the ambassadors, Merlin helped himself to more food. The juice was amazing; he would have to find out how to make his own. 

Three croissants and a peach later, Josephine spoke again. “Thank you for speaking with us. We sometimes forget that even though your realm changes more rapidly than ours, real change takes time and we must be patient. You have shown that you are growing in wisdom as well as in strength, Emrys. We look forward to speaking with you in the future.” She stood and Merlin did too.

“I look forward to it also.”

“You should get back to your friend. Bertilak is probably done teaching him a lesson and you might want to stop them before they have too much Avalonian Mead. Even Sir Gwaine will get drunk from that.”

Merlin laughed and thanked them again for the meal. The others stood and also said farewells in their own way. It was with a lighter step and a soul brimming over with magic that he crossed the portal back into his realm. 

Sure enough, Merlin found the two men drinking mead in the castle courtyard and laughing under the sun. He stood watching them for a moment before Gwaine noticed. 

“Merlin!” Gwaine called out when he noticed. “Or should I call you your highness?”

“What?” Merlin asked as he walked over. 

“You’ve got a crown, mate.”

Merlin reached up and pulled a pink and purple crown of flowers off his head. He sat down on the empty seat and set the crown on the table. “They are sneaky. I didn’t even notice who put it on.”

“Probably one of the pixies,” Bertilak said. “Was Karelina there?”

Merlin shrugged. “They didn’t all introduce themselves. But there was one pixie. They did tell me to stop you from getting Gwaine drunk though.”

“I resent the implication that I am capable of getting drunk anymore.”

“This mead is magic, Gwaine. I know you have not built up a tolerance to that.”

Gwaine looked sadly down at the rest of his drink. Then he smiled widely and held it out to Merlin. “You must have a fantastic tolerance to it then.”

“As a matter of fact,” Merlin grabbed the mug and downed the rest of the drink, “I do.” In reality, he had no clue. But the look on Gwaine’s face was worth any headache come morning. “Now come on. Thank Bertilak for his hospitality and we can get going. I’m sure you want to tell me why you aren’t dead and I would like to get back to Camelot before Arthur decides he wants my head. I only said I was going to be gone for an afternoon.”

Gwaine rolled his eyes, but they said farewell to the green knight and were on their way. Merlin had received an extra charge of energy from being in Avalon so they made it all the way to the southern border of Camelot before Gwaine admitted he must travel elsewhere. 

“Before you go, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Merlin added hurriedly, “what happened with Bertilak? The agreement was tit for tat. Should I be worried about your head falling off?”

Gwaine smiled a tight smile. “I thought it might be the end, really I did. I was being foolish, but not in the way I thought.” He ran his fingers through his horse’s mane. “Maybe I’ve been travelling too long, but I forgot what I was leaving behind. My quick decisions leave little time for considering the consequences.”

Merlin nodded. He’d made plenty of his own rash decisions without thinking of the consequences. William was swift in his reminders. It was not thinking in the heat of the moment that allowed Gwaine to discover his magic. 

“He showed me what was happening back home,” Gwaine said, looking down at his feet. “They’re... it’s not the same.”

“Is something wrong?” Merlin asked. 

“I don’t know. They’re not fighting. Which I know sounds like a good thing, but we were always fighting growing up. To see them acting civil?” He shook his head. “Something’s not right. Gaheris looks stressed. Clarissant is actually quiet, like a proper noble woman. And I didn’t see Mother anywhere. I asked but the Green Knight said he couldn’t see her.”

Merlin waited to see if he would say anything more. He had so many questions. How many siblings did Gwaine have? What was it like growing up with siblings? Was there magic in the kingdom he was raised in? How long ago had he left them? He settled for, “are you going to visit them?”

“No. I can’t. This time I’ve thought about my actions and I can’t go back. Not yet. But, I think, no I will, I’ll write to Gaheris. He’s the most likely to understand. And he won’t embark on a foolish quest to find me now that he knows I’m alive. He’s not nearly as impulsive as me.”

“Well don’t let your impulsive nature draw you too far from Camelot. Something’s stirring. I don’t know what but there’s a tension in the air,” Merlin grimaced. He’d been feeling it growing, but it was only recently that he realised it wasn’t just a twinge in his left knee from running into something. “I might have need of you soon.”

Gwaine met his eyes and nodded firmly. “I promise I won’t stray far.”

“Safe travels then, Gwaine.”

He swung back on his horse. “Thank you for coming with me, Merlin. You’re a true friend.”

He galloped west and Merlin jumped into his cave below Camelot where he found a wrapped gift upon his desk. Unwrapping it he found a large book.  _ Avalon: A History _ . Inside the front cover was an inscription. 

_ To Emrys, from Josephine _

_ So that you can learn about your home away from home.  _


End file.
